


Family

by Dankmemewhore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fire Powers, Friends to Lovers, Ignores X-Men Canon, Mutant Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dankmemewhore/pseuds/Dankmemewhore
Summary: After stopping a robbery you're given sanctuary by the Avengers after exposing yourself as an unregistered mutant. After being on your own for years, you finally find the family you've always wanted. Tony was the cool older uncle. Natasha, the sister you never had. Steve was always there to give you advice and Sam was your partner in crime. But Bucky? Bucky was something else entirely. Will you be able to hold on when your past comes back to haunt you?





	1. Chapter 1

You sit on the couch in your apartment, your face pressed into your hands as the news plays tonight’s top story in between bursts of static: you. “A robbery went wrong earlier this morning when an unidentified mutant stepped in and stopped the criminals. Police are asking for any information regarding this woman and her current whereabouts--” You grab the remote and mash the button, cutting the news woman’s voice off as they showed the grainy security camera footage of you next to a police sketch once again. You should have been regarded as a hero for what you had done this morning, but now _you_ were being investigated. Don’t be a hero. That had been one of Justine’s rules of surviving as a mutant. Those had been her last words to you, and you should have listened. You jump as a loud thunderclap echoes outside and the lights around you flicker. 

You had spent your whole life trying to make sure no one ever discovered your powers--after all, public opinion on mutants was at an all time low--and now after just one slip up you would have to give up everything again. And you probably didn’t have much time. Your phone rang shrilly from the table next to you as if illustrating your point. It was probably someone you worked with who had seen the news footage. 

In your bedroom you grab a backpack and start stuffing what you can into it. You change into a gray hoodie and jeans and pull your leather jacket over your arms. With your backpack shrugged over your shoulders you head back into the kitchen. Your grocery money is still in a jar on top of your fridge--you had been planning on going today--so you grab it and shove it into the front pocket of your jeans. As your phone rings again you open your front door and step into the pouring rain. You lower your head against the assault, trying to keep the wind from throwing the cold droplets onto your face as you head in the direction of the bus station. Your eyes dart from car to car as they pass you and you’re careful to keep your hood pulled down as far as possible to keep your face in shadow. 

You’re halfway to your destination when a black car pulls up next to you. Your pulse races in your veins as a tinted window rolls down.

“No thank you!” You shout over the rain, but another crash of thunder drowns you out. “I don’t need a ride!” You try again. Water droplets slide down your face as you wait for the car to pull away. The driver leans towards the passenger side and your body freezes as you get a look at his face.

“Come on kid, get in. We need to talk.” You’re not sure if this is best or worst case scenario, but either way there’s no running. Your hand reaches out and grasps the door handle. Inside the warm air rushes over you and you shut the door behind you to keep the rain from flying in.

“Um. Hello. Mr. Stark. Sir.”

“Tony, please. Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay.” He doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t have the guts to ask any of the hundred questions flying around your skull at the moment so you lapse into silence. As lightning forks across the sky your thoughts once again travel back to Boston and your time with Justine. Justine who had taught you how to fight, how to stay hidden, how to survive. Your only friend you had ever had, until she joined up with a group of radical mutants and gotten herself killed. The last night you had seen her had been a night like this.

You watch the lighting flashes out the window as the car rolls silently through the city. As you start the first loop of the airport you grow concerned.

You clear your throat, “Are we leaving Chicago?” 

He doesn’t respond at first until he pulls up to a private gate. An armed security guard waves him through, and he comes to a full stop in front of a Stark jet. “That’s up to you,” he says throwing the car into park. “You can stay here, take your chances with--” he grabs the bundle of wet money that’s half-hanging out of your jean pocket, “Forty-bucks and the clothes on your back while every institution out there is looking to get their hands on you, _or_ you can come with me to New York, we’ll have a nice chat and if you want to part ways then, then I’ll make sure you’re on the run with a lot more than you have right now. Capiche?” 

“Capiche,” You say weakly as he hands you back your dripping money. You try to push it back into your pocket but your jeans are so wet that you end up ripping the money in half. 

“You got anything on you that’s dry or worth keeping?” You shake your head, “Then leave it.” 

You follow him out of a car where another security guard is waiting with an umbrella to walk you to the plane. As you walk to your seats you can hear him talking but you can’t manage to tune in, your eyes are everywhere at once. You’d never been on a plane before, let alone a private jet like this. And you’re dripping on the carpet.

“--Avengers Initiative.” 

“What?” You turn to look where Tony Stark’s already sitting in his seat, an expensive looking tablet on his lap. 

“Come on, you’re smarter than that. You know exactly why you’re here; are you interested?” 

“In what--being an Avenger?” You let out a startled laugh. Stark’s looking at you with a slightly amused look, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he’s serious, “Are you--why?” 

“Let me ask you a question,” He gestures towards the empty seat in front of him and you obediently take a seat, “The fire--what kind of control do you have of it?” You raise your hand hesitantly, letting small flames light on your finger tips. As he watches, your roll your fingers and flip your hand so the small individual flames become a larger ball of flames in the palm of your hand. “Mmhmm. And I assume based on your earlier escapades that you can do a lot more than that given the opportunity.” You nod slowly. “So knowing what you can do, why on earth are you asking me why I’m asking you if you’re interested in joining?” 

“Right,” You say, “Okay. Yeah. I’m interested. Very interested. Like extremely interested.” 

Stark cracks a smile, “Yeah? Glad to hear it. How about I pop this champagne, and you tell me a little more about what you can do.” 

 

\---  


 

You’re still damp when you land, but at least it’s not raining. Your eyes trail over the expanse of buildings around you as you follow Tony through the compound and into a beautifully designed building. You’re already lost as you wind through corridors and reality is kind of actually setting in because you’re in the _Avenger’s_ compound right now. Before you really even know what’s happening you’re standing in front of a conference table in a room filled superheroes that you had previously seen only on the news. 

You were immediately overwhelmed; they all seemed so larger than life. Hulking in the back of the room were the two super soldiers; Captain America looking as young and handsome as he had in the exhibit at the museum you had seen as a child, while the Winter Soldier looked far less murderous than he had in any of the news footage you’d previously seen. Not currently hulking was Dr. Bruce Banner who gave you a small wave from his seat at the table while Black Widow eyed you curiously from his side. Vision--an actual _android_ was looking at you in such a calculating way that you quickly look away towards where the Falcon and Scarlet Witch were both smiling at you. You focus on the two of them as Tony claps his hand on your shoulder.

“Guys, this is (Y/n).” Stark says.

You smile weakly; you were standing in front of the Avengers right now in your still wet clothes. You had exposed yourself as a mutant on the national news, you were a wanted woman, and you were standing in front of the Avengers right now in your rain damp clothes.

Steve Rogers breaks through the group to stand in front of you, his blue eyes searching your face. “It’s nice to meet you (Y/n),” Steve says gently; you must look terrible. You try to feel what your face looks like, but you feel almost numb. Part of you wonders if you’re in shock. Now that you were out of survival mode, it kind of feels like your brain is shutting down. Steve looks worried, and you try and find your lips to respond with no success.. “Hey, why don’t I show you to your room?” Your room. You had a room in the Avenger’s compound. That does it, your vision grays and you’re just barely aware of your legs giving out. 

When you come to you’re laying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. “(Y/n)?” You turn your head and Steve Rogers is kneeling down at your bedside. 

“So no chance this was a terrible dream and I didn’t pass out in front of all the Avengers?”

“Sorry.” His smile is pleasant, and you turn back towards the ceiling with a groan. 

“This might be the single most embarrassing moment of my life, and that’s really saying something Captain.” 

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about,” He assures you, “Everyone’s just concerned. This can be a lot to take in.” He rises to his feet and you look up at him, “Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” You do feel exhausted, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He shuts off the light before he leaves and you savor the darkness, letting yourself relax into the soft bed; a nice change of pace from your old mattress on the floor in your apartment.

 

\--

 

The next morning you wake up to the sun streaming in the window. You sit up and rub at your eyes, confused about exactly where you are; then it hits you and your eyes widen. You were in the _Avenger’s compound_. You probably had access to a _shower_. You sit up and look around the room. A cracked door next to the bed looks like a good prospect, and you slip off the bed and push it open: bingo.

You turn the knobs and sinfully warm water pours out so you quickly strip and step in, letting the water wash away the grime that had built up on your skin. When you step out you wrap the towel around you and frown at your clothes. Air dried fabric always had a slight crispiness to it that you weren’t a fan of. It was a long shot, but you leave the bathroom to see if maybe the dresser was stocked. To your surprise there’s a stack of clothing sitting on top of it. The question was who had brought it and when, but there was no sense thinking about it. On top is a pair of black sweatpants, followed by a grey tank top and a sports bra. You pull on the clothes and are pleased to find that they fit pretty well, you wondered who they belonged to. 

You walk into the hall outside of your room, looking both ways before you turn right. You walk quietly, and coming to a staircase you descend it. Your bare feet hit the floor with a barely perceptible thud as you cross the next area. You can hear soft voice from a room ahead so you turn and find yourself in the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove frying up a pan of eggs is none other than the Winter Soldier himself while Steve Rogers toasts bread. They don’t seem to notice your arrival, and you stand in the doorway for a moment.

“You really gave me a run for my money this morning punk,” Steve says, aiming a jab at his friend’s ribs before they both laugh.

“Huh, that’s a funny way to say that I kicked your ass,” The dark haired man shoots back. You take another step in and Steve looks over his shoulder and smiles.

“Hey, good morning,” Steve says, “You hear all that (Y/n)? Don’t listen to this guy, Bucky here thinks he’s a comedian.”

“The only reason you think I’m not is ‘cause you ain’t funny,” Bucky responds with a cocky grin, before he turns to you, “Hi, I’m Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” You smile, “Nice to meet you both,” you correct yourself.

“You hungry (Y/n)?” Bucky turns to grab a plate and his hip bumps the frying pan. “Oh shit--” You grab it before it hits the ground and Bucky looks at you surprised, “Hey--nice reflexes.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky’s uncomfortably close now and you quickly replace the pan on the stove and take a step back.

 

\---

 

In the most surreal moment of your life thus far (previously it had been seeing your own face on the news), you find yourself sitting across from the two super soldiers in the Avenger’s kitchen eating breakfast. You scoop another helping of eggs onto your toast and take a bite.

“This is really good, thanks,” You tell Bucky again for _probably_ the third time. 

“You’re welcome, _again_ ,” he chuckles, “So you got the fire thing, pretty damn good reflexes, and based on the security footage from the store you can fight. Was that adrenaline or is there some training there?” You finish chewing while you think over the answer. 

“Some,” You say finally after you swallow, “Nothing you know, official, but I know how to fight.” 

“Is it just in your hands?” You hadn’t noticed Tony walk in and you jump slightly at his appearance. 

At first you’re not sure what he’s talking about, and then you realize it’s obvious. “Uhhh, no. It’s just most convenient in my hands--but I can engulf my whole body. That also helps with the fighting--I can burn the crap out of anyone who touches me. But unless I fight naked, I also scorch my clothes.”

“That’s what I figured,” Tony walks over to the dry bar in the corner and pours himself a glass of something dark and alcoholic, “I have a few things to figure out but I have an idea of how we can work around that. I’ll let you know when to come down to the lab,” He takes a sip, adds another ice cube and walks out. You turn back to the soldiers somewhat dazed.

“What does he mean?”

“Tony’s always looking for any excuse to work on a new suit.” Steve smiles, like it’s completely casual that Tony Stark wants to build you a suit. “Anyways,” Steve sighs, “I was thinking if you’re feeling up to it we could go down to the training rooms and see what you can do in a fight.”

You almost choke on your toast, “A fight--what--with you?” 

“Yeah,” Steve smiles while Bucky snickers, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it to normal human strength.”

“Okay,” You say after a moment, “I can do that.”

Steve gathers up the plates, and Bucky stands up as well, “Mind if I watch? Besides, someone should probably stand by with the fire extinguisher just in case.” 

“Oh--I won’t use my powers,” you say quickly, “I don’t want anyone or thing to get burned.” 

“You won’t hurt anything,” Steve assures you, “I want to see what you can do.”

You really never thought you’d be facing off against Captain America while the Winter Soldier watched, but once again it seemed like your life had been tipped on its head. You pad slowly across the mat, your bare feet sinking in slightly with each step. 

“Just come at me,” Steve says gently, “I just want to see what you can do.” You nod, taking a deep breath and just feel yourself out before you look up and meet his eyes. You lunge forward, your hands alight, forcing him to dodge backwards to avoid your flaming punch.

He grabs your right wrist and immediately drops it as your exposed flesh burns him. His eyes narrow and you can tell he’s analyzing you; he moves faster now, utilizing some of his superhuman strength, and crouches slightly, sweeping his leg out to knock you off your feet before you can even register his movement. You manage to twist and land on your side instead of your back but the fall still knocks the wind out of you slightly. Steve hesitates and you use the opportunity to hook your ankle around his and send him tumbling to the ground as well, earning a laugh from Bucky. You sit up as Steve does, rubbing at your hip.

“You said you would keep it to normal-human strength,” You say accusingly, “That was not normal human.”

“Well I wasn’t expecting you to be that good,” Steve gives you a crooked grin and helps you to your feet.

“She can definitely take a hit,” Bucky says, “That fall didn’t even phase her and those mats aren’t soft.” 

“You’ve got good instincts, and you’ve got the skill. It’s gonna take Tony a minute to sort out the mess you’re in, I’m not sure how long, but you’ll be safe here. But if you want, you can stay here and be an Avenger. We’d be happy to have you.”

“What?” Your voice cracks, “Just like that? You want _me_ on your team?” 

“What you did in that store was brave,” Steve says softly, “You didn’t have to do it, and you risked a lot to do it. That makes you a hero. So yeah, just like that.” 

“Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in his lab as soon as you’re finished with Ms. (Y/l/n).” You look at Steve, startled at hearing your name from the disembodied female voice that had called out.

“That’s F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Steve chuckles, “An AI. I know nothing about it, so if you’re curious you’ll have to talk to Stark. Anyways, I should probably go see what he wants. Just make yourself at home (Y/n), I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Steve, thanks for...everything,” He gives you a nod and a smile before slipping out of the room, leaving you with Bucky. 

“I should probably get going too,” Bucky glances down at a watch he wears on his non-metallic wrist, “I’m supposed to meet Romanov down at the shooting range in five. You need anything?”

“Is there anyway you could remind me where my room is?” You ask sheepishly, “This place is a little bigger than what I’m used to.”

“No problem,” He smiles, “Follow me.” You feel a little silly as you make your way back and realize that it does all seem familiar and you probably could’ve made it on your own. Still, you supposed that you’d rather ask for help then have someone find you lost in the compound. He stops in front of your door before turning to you, “Here we are, anything else I can help with before I head down?”

“No--thank you for showing me though.”

“If you need anything else my room is at the end of this hall on the left,” He glances at his watch again and starts backing towards where you’d come from, “See you around!” He calls before turning the corner. 

“See you,” You reply quietly, still looking at where he disappeared. You wonder if he could hear you still. Sighing, you step back into the bedroom, curling up in the center of the bed; your hands were shaking. You had never been a dreamer, but it was becoming increasingly hard to convince yourself this wasn’t just an extremely vivid one. Not one thing in your life had ever gone right, so to think this was happening...it was insane. You had just fought _Captain America_ in hand to hand combat and eaten breakfast with the _Winter Soldier_. You clench your fist and watch as flames engulf it; maybe just this once your abilities could be a blessing instead of a curse. Maybe this time things could go _right_.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m throwing a little thing tonight,” Tony says, and you look up surprised. For the last twenty minutes or so the two of you had been sitting in silence as he scrolled through a tablet and you munched on last night’s leftover pizza. “The security footage wasn’t the best, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, but it’s probably a good idea to change up your look a little bit.” 

You glance down at today’s variant of the sweats and tank top combo you had been rocking since you arrived several weeks ago. “This is pretty much the extent of my wardrobe Stark.”

“And that is where I come in,” Wanda sweeps into the room and drops an arm full of shopping bags on the table. “Would you mind helping me carry these up to your room? Then we can choose something nice for you to wear.”

“You went shopping for me?” Your voice was somewhere between amusement and horror, “You really didn’t need to do that.” 

“Next time we will go together,” She smiles warmly and you stand up, grabbing as many bags as you can, “Besides I’m sure you are getting tired of borrowed clothing.” 

“A bit,” You admit as the two of you walk up to your room, “But this looks like more clothes than I’ve owned in my entire life.” 

“Well I was not sure exactly what you would like so…” She lays the bags on your bed, “This one here is for tonight, if you like. I’ll let you look through it all.”

“Thanks Wanda, I don’t even know what to say.” 

“My pleasure,” She beams, “I’m sure we will be good friends very soon.” 

You spend the next hour neatly putting all of the clothes away in the dresser and closet, trying to force down the emotions the simple action triggered; you couldn’t remember the last time you had an entire dresser full of belongings, and definitely never anything this nice. With the bed cleared besides the bag Wanda had indicated was for tonight you lay across it. 

You hadn’t realized how out of shape you really were until you started regularly exercising again. It was completely exhausting, and you quickly drift off.

 

 

 

You wake up to the sound of soft music drifting up to your room, and you quickly sit up, head spinning as you tried to remember where you were. Right. Your bedroom. For some reason you had been dreaming about your parents, which was a topic you were not interested in thinking about.

You open the bag Wanda left, and your mouth falls open. You pull out the bundle of fabric, and lay the dress across your bed. You had definitely never worn anything like this before. Wanda had left you a emerald green ball gown with a matching pair of shoes.

You shimmy the fabric up your body, sighing in relief when it fits almost perfectly. In the bathroom you brush out your hair, leaving it down around your face. At the bank you had been in a hoodie and jeans with your hair back, and looking in the mirror you could barely recognize yourself. You looked healthier and more content than you had been in years, and you could only hope that it would be enough for you to fly under the radar.

 

 

\---

 

 

The scene you walk in on is worse than you hoped for but better than you expected. Thirty or so people milled around the area, and you were relieved to find that your dress didn’t stand out amongst the rest of the patrons. You would have to thank Wanda again later. You smooth down the front of your dress and scan the room, looking for a familiar face. Tony finds you before you find him, excusing himself from his conversation and slipping his arm around your shoulders to steer you towards the bar. 

“There you are, thought we were going to have to send out a search party--” He turns as the bartender hurries over, “Two martinis sweetheart.” 

“Two parties in one place might be a little much,” You smile, taking the glass as it’s passed over the bar to you, “Thank you.” You take a sip, and it’s delicious, of course. “So who are all these people?” 

“Mostly some key members of various governments,” Tony’s voice drops, “After the accords and the subsequent breaking of those accords it’s important that we schmooze with the right people while avoiding stepping on toes of others; which, and this probably will not come as a surprise to you, most of the team is abhorrent at.” 

“Mm,” You take another drink to hide your smile, “I suppose that’s not terribly surprising.”

“Speaking of which, I think I see the secretary of state over there--he absolutely hates me. I should probably say hi. Relax, enjoy, drink.” You down the rest of your drink as he walks away and order another. Leaning against the bar, drink in hand, you feel a little more confident as you glance around the room. You spot Natasha and Steve dancing, their footwork sure and steady as they move to the music. 

“Isn’t it horrible?” You look to your right where Dr. Banner has slipped into the spot next to you to look out into the crowd. You try not to gape. 

“Not your choice of scene?” You guess, looking back towards Natasha and Steve; Natasha is peering over Steve’s shoulder to look at Bruce, a flirty smile on her lips.

“There are some upsides,” He admits, the corners of his mouth tilting up, “But no, not really.”

“I’m sorry, I need to get this out. Can I just say that I am like so stoked to meet you Dr. Banner, I mean your thesis on quantum chromodynamics changed the way that we understand particle physics--I mean it was incredible.” 

“Thanks--wait--how do you--Your file lists you as having dropped out of high school.” It’s less a statement than a question, and you sigh. 

“Oh. I have a file,” You frown, “Should’ve expected that I suppose. Yeah, I was on my own at that point and needed cash, so I was working full time. I studied a lot though, audited classes at various colleges--I moved around a lot. I mostly studied epigenetics and microbiology but then I sat in on this particle physics class at MIT and it just blew me away. I’m actually reading--well was reading I guess I’ll have to get another copy, Perturbative and Nonperturbative Aspects of Quantum Field Theory by--”

“Latel and Schweiger--great choice, I actually have a copy in my lab if you wanted to borrow it.”

“That would be amazing!”

“Just stop down tomorrow and grab it--I actually have a few other recommendations if you’re interested.”

“I would literally love nothing more,” You grin, before your eyes meet Bucky’s across the room. He nods and holds the bottle in his hand up in a toast. “Excuse me for a second.”

“Of course, we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

He watches you approach as you cross the room and take the seat across from him. Like Steve the man across from you was one that you had learned about in school and there was something surreal about being face to face with him when he had barely aged from the photographs in your textbooks. “I was under the impression that enhanced individuals such as yourself couldn’t get drunk,” You say wryly as you eye the bottle in his hand. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the taste,” The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, and you get the sense that he’s happy you approached him. With everything that had happened you imagined that he was probably pretty used to people avoiding him

“So what are we drinking?” 

“A Macallan 1939,” He hands you the bottle and you glance at the label.

“Almost as old as you, huh?” You joke, before taking a swig, “Oh,” You lick your lips, “That tastes expensive.” 

“It’s from Stark’s hidden stash--I’ll show you where it is sometime.” You laugh and pour some into your now empty glass before handing the bottle back. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He settles back into the sofa, obviously not planning on moving much for the rest of the night. You wondered if pre-HYDRA Bucky would’ve been out on that dance floor, a pretty girl in his arms. You thought that he would. Underneath his semi-gruff exterior you could see traces of a ladies man, especially when he gave you that eye crinkling smile. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say parties aren’t really your thing?” 

“What gave it away?” 

You smile, “The general sulking in the corner by yourself with a bottle of liquor. You know, Dr. Banner isn’t a fan either, maybe the two of you should bro down.” 

“Bro down?” Bucky shakes his head and chuckles, “I’ll have to pass on that; I’ve smiled and nodded through one too many conversations on thermodynamics and nuclear radiation. You two seemed to be hitting it off though, what were you talking about?” 

“Er--quantum chromodynamics--” You admit, earning another laugh, “To be fair, I did bring it up.” 

“Oh god, you another science geek? Just what we needed.”

“Hey, pretty sure most people in this place owe a lot to science, you included,” You laugh, “How’d you get your abilities again?” 

“Huh,” Bucky leans forward to top off your glass, “You know you are a lot feistier than your demeanor suggests. Must be the fire,” He winks. Is he flirting with you? Maybe there was more of a ladies man left than you had previously thought. “Does it hurt having flames on your skin like that? Obviously it’s not burning you, but it’s got to be hot right?”

“Not really, it feels...kind of nice actually. Like a warm tingle.” As you speak you roll a small ball of flame across your knuckles, “You don’t think it’s weird?” You look up as he laughs.

“I’m sorry, let me get this right: you’re asking the 100 year old ex-brainwashed assassin with a metal arm if he thinks that you’re weird?”

“I guess when you put it like that…” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and his eyes follow the motion like a cat watching a mouse, “You are pretty weird.” 

He laughs again, and the sound warms you more than the liquor the two of you are drinking does. “Need a top off doll?” 

“If I didn’t know any better Sergeant Barnes, I would think you were trying to get me drunk,” You hold up your glass and he pours a generous amount into it. 

“If I was it’s definitely harder than I imagined--you had what--two martinis before you came over here?” So he had been watching you, you filed that away for future reference. “And about half this bottle. You should be on the ground.”

“Trade secret.” Bucky rolls his eyes and you laugh, “Alright, you got me. I metabolize at around three times as fast as a normal human. I used to use it to hustle guys at bars between jobs, drinking contests, pool--you get the picture.”

“Bet no one ever expected it, sweet little thing like you,” Bucky shakes his head, “Poor guys. What else can you do?”

“I mean, I heal a little faster than normal people I think. Naturally a little stronger. Nothing like you and Steve of course, it’s definitely subtle. I never even noticed it until someone pointed it out.” Until Justine had pointed it out. You quickly take a drink as if to wash away the thought of her, and if Bucky notices the emotion that flashed across your face he doesn’t mention it. 

“I think you’re being modest. There’s not a lot of that around here,” Bucky chuckles, “I think you’ll like it here.” 

“Me too.” You hadn’t realized that you had been subconsciously leaning forward while the two of you talked until Tony falls onto the couch beside you, startling you back into an upright position. 

“(Y/n), Barnes,” He says in greeting, “I thought we might toast in honor of our newest member. Champagne?” You down the rest of your glass and hold it up to the older man who glances as Bucky as he pours, “Barnes, I’m going to pretend that’s not my Macallan 1939 in your hand right now.” 

“Cheers,” Bucky grins, bumping the bottle into yours and Stark’s glasses. 

The champagne is good, and you happily accept another glass when Stark offers it. Across the room Bruce has been pulled onto the dance floor by Natasha though the way she presses her body to his leads you to believe that he doesn’t mind all that much. 

“Do you dance?” Tony asks and you laugh.

“The last dance I went to was in middle school. I’ve only seen dancing like this on t.v.,” You admit, “Totally out of my element here.”

“Come on then,” Tony stands up, holding out his hand, “Let’s make it your element.”

“Oh, no, I’m good Tony, really.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Tony smirks, and you sigh and clap your hand into his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. 

A few seconds later he leads you into a gently swing number, his footwork confident and you easily follow him. 

“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you,” You tell him as the two of you dance, “If you hadn’t picked me up that day I’d probably be in a government prison. Or doing a much different kind of dancing in some skeevy city until I got back on my feet if I was lucky.” 

“That bad huh?” 

“Not always, but jobs are hard to find, especially when you roll into a new city and you’re a high school drop out. I’ve always made do though.”

“Well, not anymore.” Tony smiles, “You’re safe now.”

 

 

 

You stumble up to your bedroom a couple hours later, despite your body’s ability to quickly metabolize the liquor the warmth of the alcohol was buzzing wildly in your veins. After Tony, Sam had insisted on dancing with you, and then Steve had taken a turn. You thought the earlier flirting might had led Bucky to approach you again that night, but maybe you had misread the situation. 

As you approach your door Bucky is down the hall opening his own; your eyes meet and you can feel the teasing tension from earlier spike once more, sending a new heat spiraling through your veins. There was no misreading the way his hand retreated slightly from his door handle and his body almost imperceptibly began angling towards you. 

You almost jump when you hear the footsteps coming up the hallway, and Bucky lets himself into his room before you can even begin to turn your own door handle. Stepping inside your room you take a deep breath, examining what had just happened. It was probably for the better; sleeping with one of the Avengers when you hadn’t even been there a month was probably a terrible way to start out your time here. You fall onto the bed, your stomach lurching with the motion, and cover your eyes with your arm, praying that the room would stop spinning soon.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for such a large gap in updates; with the holidays everything kind of got away from me for a moment. Now that everything is settled down updates should be fairly regular again and chapter four should be up sometime this week. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading!

You make it out of bed in the early afternoon and head down to the kitchen after you change out of your rumpled ball gown and into your more familiar sweats and a t-shirt combo. Bucky is sitting at the breakfast bar when you walk in, while Tony and Steve are standing in front of it talking to another familiar face, though you had never met: James Rhodes. His mouth falls open as you walk in, and your friendly smile wilts on your lips.

“Tony. What is she doing here?” His voice is calm, but you can hear the tension brewing under the surface.

“She’s one of us,” Tony responds with the same false sense of calm. 

That does it. “She’s one of--” Rhodes sputters, “Do you know what bringing her here could do to your position with the United States government? Tony, they’ll consider this treason! You need to talk to me before you act.” 

“That’s funny, I don’t remember you being in charge of the Avengers,” Tony’s jaw clenches, “And I definitely don’t remember needing to run things by you.”

“This mutant unrest is not our business.” 

“Really Rhodie? Because a genocide sounds exactly like our kind of business,” Steve frowns.

“And you! You’re on thin ice as it is,” Rhodes tells Steve, “You used all your strings to get your pal here, you really think you can get away with it again?” 

Bucky’s on his feet now, “What the hell is the difference between us and her?” He asks, gesturing between him and Steve to you.

“You know what the difference is.” Rhodes says quietly. 

“I really don’t think I do,” Bucky snaps and you look at him surprised--you’re not the only one. Steve is giving his best friend a look that clearly says ”stand down”, but Bucky only has eyes for Rhodes as he walks around the counter. Rhodes looks back at him, jaw tense--though not nearly as tense as you would be had the Winter Soldier been looking at you like that.

“Steve Rogers was created, mutants are born--and more and more of them are found every day. Imagine groups of these things, with powers like ours, turning against us. Thousands of enhanced people in the streets, it would be chaos. What’s happening here, it’s unnatural.”

Bucky snaps at that, stepping forward so he’s chest to chest with Rhodes, “Unnatural? You’re really going to stand here and--” Steve grabs his friends shoulder, pulling him back. 

“Maybe you should go Rhodie,” Steve says, his own anger just barely contained, “We can talk about this later.” 

Rhodes nods; when he passes you on his way out he looks down at you with something like pity, and you frown. 

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” Steve says immediately when he’s gone, “Rhodie just...He’s under a lot of pressure from the military. He’ll come around.” 

“It’s fine,” You force a smile, “Really.” Steve’s face is still concerned so you try for an even more nonchalant approach. “Is there any of that shwarma left? I’m starved.” Steve blinks in surprise before he grins.

“All yours.” 

Bucky stays behind as Steve and Tony leave, almost gaping at you. “Are you seriously just going to ignore that bullshit?” 

“Because I’ve been hearing it all my life,” You tell him quietly, “It doesn’t make it right--” You backpedal quickly, “But things don’t change all at once.” He looks at you in disbelief and you force a smile. “Want some?” The corner of his lips perk up and he slides into a seat as you reheat the leftovers from the night before.

\--

After you eat Bucky heads off, so you find yourself wandering the compound until you find yourself in Bruce’s lab. You push open the glass door; Bruce is sitting at a desk, some kind of 3D schematic floats in the air in front of him. 

“Is that some kind of microchip?” You ask, before you clap your hand over your mouth, “I’m so sorry to interrupt Dr. Banner.”

“No, please, come in. And it’s just Bruce,” He smiles kindly at you, “This is actually the microchip they’ve been implanting in mutants.” You frown at that and he nods in understanding, “I’m not a fan either. Want to take a look?” 

You nervously cross the room, before taking control of the projection. Using your hands you enlarge it, and spin it around. Your brow furrows as you turn the schematic again. “Hold on…” You say quietly to yourself, “If this is the tracking chip...What’s this back here?” You zoom in on the secondary paneling on the microchip, cleverly designed to look like a shadow under examination. 

“You’re good,” Bruce chuckles, “That’s exactly what Stark and I noticed.” You try not to grin as you begin dismantling the schematic and the smile freezes on your lips.

“But this looks like some kind of built in kill-switch,” You turn to look at him with wide eyes, “That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it?” He nods and it feels like your heart drops out of your chest, “With a touch of a button they could kill every single registered mutant.”

“We’ve had our eye on this situation for awhile now. Now that we have this,” Bruce gestures towards the microchip, “I don’t think Steve is going to wait much longer.”

“But this isn’t some foreign country or private organization doing this,” You breathe, “This is the United States Government. What can he do?” You shake your head, “I just don’t understand how a government could do this to its own people.”

“A kind that doesn’t consider them people,” Bruce says quietly, “And this militant mutant group that’s sprung up has only made things worse. The public opinion of mutants is spiraling fast--at this point even bringing this,” He nods towards the microchip, “To the public's attention wouldn’t even matter. People are too afraid to think rationally about what it means.” 

Feeling faint you take a seat on the corner of his desk, breathing evenly through your nose in an attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart. “Isn’t there anything we can do? Anything I can do?” 

Bruce leans back in his chair, “Like I said, I don’t think Steve is going to sit back for much longer on this. He’s been wanting to do something since the Mutant Registration Act passed, but once he sees this,” Bruce shakes his head, “The thing is, like you said, this is the government that’s doing this, so we need to think carefully about any actions we make. Any outright move and they’ll shut us down faster than you can blink. I don’t want to say anything for sure but I think our next move will be to start spreading the word. Tell mutants what the chip can do so they elect to go into hiding rather than register. We just have to be careful about it.” 

“And the mutant organization you mentioned?” 

“Needs to be shut down. Only problem is we don’t know anything about it, other than that it exists of course. Government officials have been getting threatening letters, pro-mutant graffiti has been popping up in cities all over the U.S., all signed under one name. COBRA.”

“COBRA,” You repeat slowly, the name seems vaguely familiar but you can’t put your finger on why.

“Do you recognize it?”

“I don’t know...I don’t think so.” You shake your head, “If so nothing’s coming to mind.” 

“Well if you think of anything…”

“Of course,” You stand up, “I’ll let you get back to work though. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“I’m glad to have the company,” Bruce stands as well, and pulls open a drawer, “Here are those books we talked about,” He holds out a thick stack, “I think you’ll enjoy them.” Your arms bow as you take the stack and Bruce smiles sheepishly, “I might have gone a little overboard.”

“No, thank you--seriously” You add at the look on his face, “Now I have enough reading material to keep me busy for the next year or two,” You grin and adjust your grip on the books.

“Come down anytime,” Bruce tells you as he turns back to the schematic.

You unload your books in your room and lay across your bed, flipping through the Latel and Schweiger book you had never gotten a chance to finish until you find your spot. You read until the light grows dim and you’re forced to reach over to turn on your bedside lamp. As the light illuminates the room you suddenly freeze as the nagging feeling in the back of your mind you had experienced since your chat with Bruce finally disappears as a memory surfaces; Justine and the cobra tattooed around her wrist.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read chapter three (also posted today), please go back before reading this one. Enjoy.

You pull off your mask as you fall into your seat on the quinjet, greedily sucking in the fresh air. Your entire body feels like jello and the smell of burnt fabric feels like it’s permanently sealed itself to the inside of your nose having caught your sleeve on fire during the mission. Since your mission had been in the Siberian wilderness, you had been given permission to use your abilities and Tony had given you his last minute prototype suit which had proven to be incredibly flammable. You supposed you were lucky that you had managed to stifle the flames before the entire thing had caught fire. 

This had been your third mission so although your body was starting to adapt to the rigorous demands that being part of the Avengers required, it still took its toll.

“Your lucky your old mask didn’t cover your nose and mouth,” You tell Steve, “These things have no ventilation.” 

“At least it’s only temporary,” Steve smiles, “Tony’s working on getting everything settled.” 

“I know, I’m definitely not complaining,” You tell him, leaning your head back, “Well, just a little.” 

“You gonna make it sleepyhead?” Sam jokes as he walks past you towards the cockpit; you can’t think of a witty response so you just flip him the bird. 

Bucky sprawls across the seats next to you, his head almost touching your thigh. “I’d catch some shut eye if I was you doll, we got a long way back.” 

 

 

You groan as you wake up, you had slid sideways as you slept so you were slumped sideways half on top of Bucky’s sleeping form. You sit up as gingerly as possible trying not to rouse the sleeping man next to you. 

“Tryin’ to keep me warm doll?” Bucky grins as he also sits up. So much for that. 

“Trying to smother you in your sleep. Guess it didn’t work.” 

“Oh yeah? Back in my day that’s what we called cuddling.”

“Huh, well in my day we call comments like that workplace sexual harassment.” From the cockpit you can hear Sam’s muffled laughter. The plane begins its descent and you stretch happily. 

 

 

After you change out of your half melted proto-suit, you head down to the kitchen. The rest of the team would be waking soon, so you start on breakfast. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be sliding across the Avenger’s kitchen floor in your socks like Tom Cruise in Risky Business using a spatula as a microphone as you sing and dance to your favorite song you would’ve laughed in their face. But, life it funny like that sometimes, and so here you were. 

“Thought you all would be passed out after your mission,” You twirl around, mouthing the lyrics to the song as you point your spatula at Bruce who laughs at your antics. 

“I slept on the plane,” You say before popping the bacon in the oven. With that done you start on the pancakes. Before long Natasha walks in, grabbing a cup of the freshly brewed coffee you had made. 

“Christ (Y/n) you’re a saint,” She sits at the table with Bruce. When the first round of pancakes comes up you pile them onto two plates and place them in front of them.

“Thank you (Y/n),” Bruce smiles.

Wanda comes in next, and gladly takes the plate you offer her. “Thanks! It smells amazing.” 

Bucky comes in next, freshly showered with a grin on his handsome face as he leans against the counter watching you make him a plate. “Don’t know what we did before you came around doll.”

“Why do you have to say things like that man?” You ask as you hand over the plate, “Almost makes me feel bad about spitting in your food.” Sam high fives you on the way to the coffee pot for your remark while Bucky pops a piece of the bacon into his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners. You pile the leftover eggs and toast onto your own plate and lean against the counter next to Bucky.

“Steve sleeping?” You ask Bucky, who nods. “I could’ve flown for awhile,” You tell him with a frown, “So he could’ve got some sleep on the way.” 

“I told him I could take over,” Sam agrees, “You know how he is. Too caring for his own good.”

“Where’s Vis and Tony--Oh, don’t tell me they’re down in that lab still.” 

“They’ve been at it all night,” Wanda smiles, “You know how Tony is, he can’t stand there being a problem he can’t solve.” 

“Of course they have,” You roll your eyes, “It’s completely unnecessary. I really don’t need to be able to become a giant fireball. There is literally no situation that would call for that. He’s just being petty at this point.” 

“Didn’t you say something about fighting naked at some point? Maybe we should revisit that.” You give Bucky a deadpan look and throw the crust of your toast at him. Boys. 

“Want me to run some food down for Tony?” Wanda offers and you shake your head. 

“Nah, I’ll head down there. I’m sure he’ll be looking for me at some point anyways. Thanks though.” You nudge Bucky out of the way to pour a cup of coffee and grab the last stack of pancakes. 

Tony and Vision were looking at a schematic when you quietly slipped in.

“Alright, test thirty-two-Alpha-four,” Tony runs his fingers through his hair as fire is blasted out of a tank onto a piece of fabric held in place by four metal arms. You had been approaching, but quickly jump back as the fabric almost seems to explode, shooting napalmish globs everywhere. You let out a giggle as one of Tony’s robots sprays out the small fires. 

“I’d say back to the drawing board on that one,” You say as Tony and Vision turn towards you. “But first, breakfast. Wanda says you’ve been down here all night.” You set the plate and coffee down, and Tony grabs the latter eagerly. 

“So, my last usable prototype turned out to be completely resistant to standard fire, while being incredibly un-resistant to your fire,” Tony sets down the cup after you explain what had happened on the mission and waves his hand at you, “Come on do some tricks, I want Vision to scan your fire and see what the issue is.”

“Tony, really, my suit--not the last one--my normal one is absolutely fine. I don’t need to be fireproof.” 

“Humor me.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, but only if you eat while Vis does the scans. Deal?” 

“Yes mom,” Tony huffs, folding one of the pancakes like a taco and taking a bite. Satisfied, you conjure up the fire letting it burn on your hands while Vision watches intently, breaking down the composition of the flames. 

 

“A little more, please,” Vision says politely, and you let the flames engulf your arms up to your elbows, extending your arms so you didn’t scorch your shirt. After a few more seconds Vision blinks and nods, and you let the flames dissipate.

“The composition appears to be fairly normal; nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, water vapor,” Vision frowns, “However, there are trace amounts of (Y/n)’s DNA within the flames.” 

Tony snaps, “Well that’s got to be it. Until prototype six-alpha-seven, we had no reason to consider that there was anything different about (Y/n)’s fire as opposed to any other fire. Step over here (Y/n), I want to run a few more tests. We should’ve done this the moment you got here.” You trail after him as he sets up an instrument. In the center of the room Tony had fixed some kind of temperature gage atop a metal pole. On the wall behind it a digital display showed the ambient temperature of the room.

“Hottest fire you can, right here at this target.” 

“Tony,” You whine, “Come on, this is silly.” He raises his eyebrows and you sigh before sending a string of fire at the spot he had pointed out. You watch as a set of numbers on the digital display above it begin to climb. From 500˚ to 800˚, you felt the sweat bead on your brow as you concentrated until the flames were almost white, the numbers on the screen flashed 2640˚ before the display cut out and you released the flames; the temperature gage had melted into a pool of bubbling steel that was starting to melt the metal pole on which is sat.

“Right…” Tony says slowly, “So a bit hotter than your average campfire then.” 

“A bit,” You reply a little faintly, “Holy shit.” 

“I need some of your blood.”

“What?” You ask sharply, turning away from the now cooling metal to look at Tony.

“You think something within her DNA will allow you to create a fabric that is resistant to the fire she creates?” Vision asks, “I suppose other than the extreme temperatures that is the only true difference.”

“Exactly.” Tony crosses the room while you watch him, dumbfounded and rummages through a box before he pulls out a plastic encased syringe.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” You frown, taking a step back from him, “Tony,” Your back hits the wall and you gulp.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of _needles_ ,” Tony grins, “I’ll be gentle, you won’t even feel it.”

“Really, Tony, this isn’t necessary, I really don’t need a fireproof suit,” The words fly from your lips, “I’ll carry around a fire extinguisher, it’s fine--” 

 

 

You walk out of his lab scratching at the pink bandaid he had placed on your hand after drawing the blood. You pass Bucky walking out of the lounge and loop your arm through his. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“I’ve never been to the city,” You offer, “Bet with you driving we could make it there in record time.” A smile slowly spreads across his handsome face.

“Now I know you’re trying to butter me up doll, you never let me drive.”

“Only because I enjoy living,” You tease, “But just this once I’m willing to give up the keys.” You follow him to the garage, and an idea strikes you as he climbs aboard his motorcycle. “Let’s go to Brooklyn,” You tell him, “I want to see where you and Steve grew up.” He turns to look at you as you climb on behind him, and his eyes seem brighter as he shoots you a reckless grin. You wrap your arms around him as he hits the gas, settling your face between his shoulder blades as he drives far too fast out of the compound. 

 

 

You make it into the city in what you’re sure is record time, reaching Brooklyn just as the sun begins to dip low on the horizon. Bucky parks the bike in a safe, but probably not legal location and you climb off, stretching. Bucy takes you around Brooklyn, from the house that he grew up in with his three siblings to the spot where him and Steve had cemented their longstanding friendship as children. Now the two of you sit side by side atop the roof of a highrise, your feet dangling down over the city while the two of you eat hotdogs from a street vendor. 

“These are good,” You tell Bucky through a mouthful of your dinner and he gives you a lazy smile, his own mouth full. 

“Brooklyn’s finest,” he says after he swallows. You have a clear view of the Manhattan skyline from where you sit and your eyes drink up the view; the city lights remind you of the little slice of home you had left behind in Chicago. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time in small towns, but I always end up back in the city,” You tell Bucky wistfully.

“There is somethin’ about it,” he agrees, “You move around a lot as a kid?” 

“Grew up in my mom’s childhood home in Indiana--New Harmony--small town, you know? But after I was on my own I traveled a lot, town to town, state to state. Spend a year here, six months there just working odd jobs. I was bartending in Chicago when everything happened with the robbery,” You shrug, “I miss my apartment there sometimes, Chicago felt more like most like home to me.” 

“How long were you on your own?”

“Ten years or so,” Bucky looks at you shrewdly, “What?”

“You don’t look that old.”

You laugh at that, “I’m not. I left home at thirteen.”

His eyes widen. “You were just a kid.”

“So were you when you enlisted,” You smile, “My parents didn’t want me around so I figured why stick around?”

“I didn’t know. What happened?” His eyes are soft as he looks at you and you have to force yourself to tear your eyes from his. 

“When this first happened…” A small flame appears atop your hand and you roll it absentmindedly over your knuckles, “I had a really hard time controlling it. There was a fire... It was found to be caused by faulty wiring, but my parents knew what really happened. They said they didn’t want a freak as a daughter. So I left. It was hard at first, but you can get used to anything.”

“(Y/n)...” Bucky murmurs in quiet awe.

“Hey, having a tragic backstory is basically a requirement for superheroes,” You bump your shoulder into his, drawing a laugh from the man beside you. You fall quiet for a few minutes, before you sigh. “Things were a lot better after I met--” Your eyes widen slightly and you cut yourself of. You hadn’t mentioned Justine’s tattoo--or Justine herself to any of the Avengers. Mostly because you were absolutely positive that it couldn’t be connected. Justine was dead. You had seen her die. Despite your positivity on the matter, it didn’t stop the thought from popping into your head at all times of the day. “We should probably head back.” You say quickly, climbing to your feet and holding out your hand for Bucky; his hand, the metal cool from the night air, slides into yours as you pull him to his feet. 

“Think we can beat our record here on the way back?” He asks and you smile.

Spoiler Alert: You did.


	5. Chapter 5

The throbbing bass feels like it’s rattling your bones as you sit on a barstool;the martini Natasha had ordered for you is taking you from hot to borderline overheating. You’d never been in a club before, but you can say for sure that you’re not a fan. 

“Y/n, start looking excited to be here or we’ll have to start buying our own drinks,” Natasha says just loudly enough to be heard over the music, her lips twisting into a coy smile at a man across the room.

“You’re awful,” You reply, but you make an effort to sit up a little straighter. 

“He’s cute,” Wanda nods at a tall blonde haired man leaning against the bar farther down from you, “You should go talk to him.” 

“How about we just go home?” You suggest, “I really don’t think I’m going to meet Prince Charming at a _bar_.” 

“Prince Charming?” Natasha snorts, “We didn’t bring you here for prince charming we brought you here to get--”

“Natasha!” You scold, cheeks tinged with pink, “We get the point, thanks.” You slump back down into your seat, swirling the remains of your drink in your glass. 

“Okay, okay,” She waves a hand impatiently at you, “This is obviously not working, we brought you here to have fun. So, no more talk of guys, let’s just have a good time. Let’s do shots.” You groan as you sit back up but a small smile lifts the corners of your lips. 

“Just one.”

 

An hour later the three of you were on the dance floor, Natasha keeping a measured distance as she teased the poor sap who had approached her, while you and Wanda danced together; your hips swaying to the beat of the music. One shot turned into two which turned into five and you were feeling _good_. When Natasha sets the guy loose you leave the two girls to dance together and you head back to the bar, leaning across it to order another drink. 

“Hi.” You turn around, your eyes meeting a pair of icy blue eyes. Bucky? You blink. They’re the wrong shade; wrong guy. The man standing in front of you looks more like the clean cut Bucky you had seen as a kid in the history museum not your dangerous scruffy man back home. 

“Hello,” You say tentatively, grabbing your drink from the bar. 

“I’m Bryce, I saw you dancing out there and I just had to say hello; you’re absolutely stunning.” You almost spit into your drink.

“Really? Thank you. I’m (Y/n).” 

“It’s a little loud to talk in here,” Bryce smiles, “Maybe I could give you my number and we could chat some place quieter, maybe over dinner?” You glance up across the room where Natasha is staring you down. When you make eye contact she nods vigorously while Wanda gives you a double thumbs up. 

“Okay.” You say after a moment, he grabs a pen off the bar and writes his name and number down on the napkin.

“I sincerely hope to hear from you soon,” Bryce says, giving you another smile before he rejoins his friends. Natasha and Wanda are at your side in a second.

“(Y/n)! He was gorgeous! Please tell me you got his number.” Wanda gushes. You hold up the napkin triumphantly. 

“Mission accomplished, now can we go home?”

 

The car ride home is full of giggles--unbecoming of some of the best fighters in the universe--but you find your mind drifting to the initial moment bar-guy had approached you and how for a brief moment you had thought it was Bucky; excitement and adrenaline had flooded your system--not the kind of excitement when you saw a friend, but when you saw a crush--a feeling you hadn’t felt in a _long_ time. And a feeling you definitely didn’t get about your best friend. 

Steve and Bucky are still in the living room when you get home so the moment you walk in Natasha snatches the napkin from your hand and holds it up like a proud mother. “(Y/n)’s going on a daaaate!” She drags the last word out much longer than necessary and you duck your head to hide your burning cheeks. 

“Congrats (Y/n),” Steve sends you a smile while Bucky looks up at you, an odd expression on his face. Natasha shoves the napkin back into your hand before she leaps onto Steve’s back, nimbly fastening her arms around his neck.

“Make me a milkshake?” 

“Ooh, me too,” Wanda coos, looping her arm through Steve’s. 

“(Y/n)?” Steve offers, and you smile.

“No thanks,” You plop on the couch next to Bucky as they head to the kitchen.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Bucky asks, his voice sounding strained to your ears. You shrug. 

“Some guy who gave me his number at the bar,” You pick at the edges of the napkin absentmindedly, “I probably won’t call him. I mean, how do people even date anymore?”

“Your guess is as good as mine doll,” Bucky smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You lean into his shoulder, inhaling deeply. His flannel shirt smells like laundry detergent and something uniquely Bucky. His body stiffens at your touch, his muscles unusually tense before he finally relaxes. “You smell like gin.” You point to a dark splotch on your dress. 

“I spilled my drink on myself.” You both laugh, “I wish you would’ve come.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky snorts, “I’m sure Natasha is a much better at helping you pick up guys than I would be.” 

“I don’t want to pick up guys,” You smack his arm playfully, “Besides, how do you explain all this,” You gesture around to the room around you, “To someone?” You shake your head, “Not to mention I am a fugitive. I don’t think dating is in the cards for me right now.” You snap your fingers, sparking a small flame, and hover the napkin over it until it catches fire. You watch as the napkin burns, hovering in front of the two of you until it disappears completely, the flame with it. 

“Poor guy,” Bucky shakes his head, “He probably had no idea he was playin’ with fire.” He grins and you return the smile with one of your own. You weren’t sure why he was so tense before, but whatever it was it didn’t seem to be bothering him anymore. 

“Shush it,” You tell him, “I’m heading to bed. Let’s shoot tomorrow morning before I train with Sam.” 

“Sounds good.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol still coursing through your veins or your earlier train of thought regarding the man at your side, but you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw before you rise to your feet. “Night Buck.”

 

\--

 

Why drunk you thought that shooting the next morning was going to be a good idea was a mystery. You wince at each individual shot as Bucky empties his clip into the paper target.

“Knew you were gonna regret this one,” He says smugly, “How’s the head.” You shoot him a glare, nudging him out of the way so you have room to aim. Your first shot goes wide, missing completely, and your second just clips the paper. You’re aiming for your third when he lowers your gun with his hand. “You’re never gonna hit it like that, let me help you.” Suddenly his chest is flush against your back and you’re both holding the gun. “You have to relax,” he says softly, his lips almost touching your ear, “Aim, breathe, and pull the trigger.” Your heart is racing in your chest but you try and match your breathing to his. You exhale, and together you pull the trigger; the bullet rips right through the center of the targets head. “Try it yourself.” He steps away, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or upset at the loss of contact. 

You take a deep breath and fire on the exhale, the bullet goes a little left, but it’s still a kill shot. Better than anything you’d managed this morning. “Thanks Bucky.” Why did you sound so winded? Your face suddenly felt hot. 

“You alright? You look a little…”

“I’m fine!” 

“You sure? Maybe you should skip the training with Sam today and lay down.” His large hand wraps around your bicep.

“Sam!” You latch onto the word like a life preserver, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but the room you were currently in with the person you were currently with, “I don’t want to keep him waiting. I should go.” You pull off your ear protection and toss it onto the table. 

“O...kay?” Bucky rolls his eyes, and turns back to the target area. You can hear his shots echoing as you walk down the hallway. Alone, you finally feel like you can breathe again. What the hell was that? You couldn’t recall a single moment in your time with the Avenger’s in which you had ever felt--uncomfortable wasn’t the right word-- _affected_ by Bucky’s presence like that. But that wasn’t necessarily true; your mind dredges up the memory of your first Stark party and the look you and Bucky had shared that night. That look hadn’t been of friendship but of--you forcibly cut off that train of thought. Bucky had been your friend before any of the others, he had kept you afloat when it felt like you were drowning during your first couple months. Now you weren’t sure where you stood, but you knew it felt like Bucky would set _you_ aflame with just a simple touch. 

“You coming in or are you too scared?” Sam taunts as you hover outside the door lost in your own thoughts.

“You wish Wilson,” you roll your eyes and meet him on the mat in the center of the room, cracking your knuckles menacingly. 

He absolutely destroys you. It’s hard to concentrate when your mind keeps wandering to Bucky’s firm chest pressed against your back. 

Sam grins as he pulls you to your feet after laying you out on the mat. “Damn, that would be an ego boost if you weren’t completely distracted. Where you at today?”

“You don’t even want to know,” You wipe the sweat from your face with the bottom of your tank top. “Pencil me in for a rematch sometime this week so I can redeem myself from that slaughter.”

“I should say no so I can always remember this moment, but how can I say no to this pretty face?” Sam pokes your nose and you swat his hand away. 

“Yeah yeah, shove it Wilson.” You head towards the door, shooting him a smile before you leave so he knows you’re not actually angry.

 

\---

 

“Did you guys hear how I absolutely destroyed (Y/n) this morning when we trained?” Sam leans back in his chair and crosses his arms while you roll your eyes. 

“You?” Bucky snorts, “(Y/n) must have been completely off her game.” 

“She was probably thinking about cutie from the bar,” Natasha offers, a smirk on her lips. 

“Cutie from the bar?” Tony leans forward, “(Y/n), do tell.” 

“There’s absolutely nothing to tell,” You shoot back, “Some guy at the bar gave me his number. End of story.” 

“But you are going to call him though, right?” Natasha frowns.

“I uh...lost his number actually.”

“Lost it?” Her eyes narrow.

“If she doesn’t want to call him that’s her business,” Wanda sets her hand on Natasha’s arm. 

“I think my entire love life should probably be my business.”

Natasha snorts and says, “What love life?” At the same time Sam says, “You should try Tinder.” 

“Come on, when’s the last time Steve’s been on a date?” You gesture towards the blonde who looks up at you with wide eyes, Bucky grinning at his side.

“Wha--with Sharon,” Steve says immediately.

“That was a kiss, not a date.” 

“I’ll allow it,” Natasha replies.

“What?” You half shout, “I’ve kissed people.”

“Who have you kissed?” Bucky asks, which brings a blush to your face as you had been thinking about the peck you had given him the night before when you spoke. 

“People!” You say defensively. 

“Sounds like fake news to me,” Bucky says while everyone laughs. You playfully fling a few noodles in his direction and grin as one sticks to his cheek. He grabs it gently between two metal fingers and pops it into his mouth before sending you a wink. “Delicious.” 

“Alright, when the food starts flying that’s my cue to leave,” Bruce smiles and starts to get up.

“Does that mean this horrible family dinner is over?” You ask, standing as well. 

“If by _horrible_ you mean _amazing_ , then yes,” Tony says as you grab your leftover chinese carton and head towards the door, “Oh, and you’re welcome.” 

Bucky catches up to you as you head up towards your room, falling into place beside you and snagging a couple of noodles out of your container. 

“So why don’t you date?” You almost choke on the noodle you had just dropped in your mouth. 

“What?”

“You’ve been here what, a year or so now? You’ve never gone out with anyone.” 

“I go out with you guys all the time.” 

“You know what I mean,” Bucky rolls his eyes, “On dates.” 

“I thought we talked about this last night,” You frown, “What am I supposed to do, bring my date back _here_? Not to mention,” You hold up your hand showing him the soft flames that dance along your fingertips, “Trying to explain that.”

“Sounds like excuses to me.” You stop walking, gaping at him. 

“Wh--are you kidding me? I forgot that I was talking to New York’s most sociable person over here. When’s the last time you got laid Bucko?”

“Now that’s not very fair darlin’,” Bucky chuckles, “See, you didn’t spend the better part of a century cryogenically frozen. And if we’re talking about weird physical things, I do have a metal arm.” 

“Oh, girls love the metal arm,” You swat at him playfully, “But I’m a _mutant_. It’s different--it shouldn’t be, but it is. You and Steve are like science experiments gone _right_ , and I almost burned down my house as a kid.” You look up at him to meet his soft gaze, “It’s been so freeing being here, not having to hide who I am, and I never want to go back to how it was before.” 

“Well I think any guy would be lucky to have you,” You swallow thickly as his eyes smoulder at you, before they crinkle up at the corners when he grins, “Freaky fire powers and all.” 

“Yeah yeah,” You grumble, pushing past him to start walking again, “Keep it up and you’ll find out what the melting point of vibranium is, buddy.”


	6. Chapter Six

You twirl through the air, narrowly dodging a stream of bullets as you break through the enemy ranks. Quickly you find yourself alone in hostile territory as reinforcements arrive between you and the rest of your team. You barely notice though, your mind is focused on finding the hostages. 

“(Y/n), fall back!” Bucky’s voice is in your ear, “You have no back up.” 

“Hostages are in sight,” You reply, “I’m moving in.” 

You hear him growl lowly in your ear but you don’t back down. Your hands clench around your guns as you attack, weaving in and out to avoid the bullets aimed in your direction. Out of your peripheral vision you see Bucky and Sam break through the throng of fighting to back you up, and in your relief to see them you’re too slow and a bullet catches you in the stomach. Your suit is bulletproof, but it still feels like getting hit by a sledgehammer and you land hard on your back. Bucky and Sam make short order of the remaining men before Bucky falls to the ground beside you while Sam goes to the hostages. 

“(Y/n),” His voice is panicked and you can feel his hands fluttering over your injury. He pulls your mask off and you open your eyes and let out a pained groan. “Oh thank god, are you okay? Can you get up?”

“Think so,” Your voice sounds small and winded, but Bucky’s able to help you to your feet.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky hisses as you fall heavily into one of the seats, Sam stands next to him arms crossed. 

“I had eyes on the hostages, I had it under control,” You say defensively.

“When things go sideways like that you got to wait for backup, running in there half cocked like that you’ll end up dead.” 

“Well I didn’t,” You snap, “So let it go.” 

Bucky gives you one last look before he disappears to the cockpit. 

“Maybe I should copilot,” Sam says, “You rest up.” 

You frown as he also disappears, leaving you alone to seethe. Either of them would have done the same thing in your position, risking themselves to save innocent lives. But you did it, and all of a sudden it’s a huge deal. Combining that with the embarrassment of your little slip up and the fact that it felt like you had been punched in the gut by the Hulk, you were in a pretty foul mood at this point.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s still not feeling very talkative but he helps you up to your room where you peel off your suit to check the damage. It looks like someone smeared a handful of blueberries across your stomach and you grimace as your fingers brush over the sensitive flesh. In the bathroom you use an ace bandage to wrap your midsection and pop a couple of aspirin. You slip into a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt and head downstairs to the kitchen for some tea. 

You’re immediately assaulted with the smell of garlic and you’re not surprised to find Vision standing at the stove with a container of minced garlic in one hand and a spoon in the other.

He turns as you approach and you slip the garlic from his hand, “Maybe that’s enough of that. You trying to fight off vampires or something?” 

“Too much?” He sighs, “Wanda has been mentioning this meal her mother used to make, I’m attempting to recreate it for her.” 

“Here,” You grab a spoon and take a sip of the stew. Behind the overwhelming garlic, the flavors are balanced and surprisingly delicious. Not all of Vision’s cooking had been edible up to this point. “Oh Vis, this is actually pretty good. Maybe just up some of the other spices and let it simmer for awhile and I think it’ll be perfect.” 

“Thank you (Y/n),” He starts chopping up some fresh parsley while you put on the kettle. You take a seat while you wait to try and quell the dull ache radiating through your body.

“I heard you were injured,” Vision says quietly while he cuts, “It looks like it’s painful.”

“It doesn’t feel great,” The corner of your mouth twitches in irritation, Sam and his loud mouth had apparently already spread the news. 

“You seem...annoyed.” 

“It’s just the guys, I’m fine, alive, everything worked out, but they’re acting like I launched a suicide mission.”

‘They were angry at you.” It’s not a question and you nod. “I’ve noticed that when people care deeply about others it makes them vulnerable and that can be hard to accept. So sometimes when they feel scared they react with anger instead to protect themselves. Put yourself in Bucky’s shoes, for example. How would you have reacted had he been injured.” 

“I know Vis,” You sigh, “I just don’t like being treated like I’m weak.” 

“You are anything but,” Vision smiles and takes the kettle from the stove and begins to make your tea. 

“Thanks Vis,” You take the mug, “I’m going to head back up, I’m exhausted.” 

“Of course. Here take this,” He ladles some of the stew into a bowl and holds it out, “I’d feel better if I knew you had something to eat.” 

“Thank you.” 

You hadn’t been hungry but by the time you got up to your room the smell had enticed you and you quickly devour it. The warmth feels good in your stomach, and you lay down, your cup of tea on the table beside you.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark when you wake up, the pain in your stomach bordering on agonizing. You push your cold tea out of the way to see the time. 2 AM. Great. 

You pull yourself into a sitting position and swallow a couple more aspirin dry. You look at the tea again; maybe another hot drink would help dull the pain. You navigate the kitchen using only the gentle moonlight cascading in through the open windows. As you feel around the cupboard for your favorite mug a cool breeze comes in through the open windows, and you shiver. You fill the mug up with milk and pop it in the microwave, humming quietly to yourself as you search for the cocoa--Sam never puts it back in the same spot--as your hand wraps around the container you suddenly feel someone behind you. The container tumbles to the ground as you whirl around eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“Bucky,” You breath, squinting in the dim light, “You scared me.” He doesn’t respond and you take a step forward to get a better look at him; that’s when you realize how pale his skin looks and the thin layer of sweat that covers it, making him look ill. “Bucky are you okay?” His eyes are hidden beneath the shadow of his hair, and you take another step forward, wrapping your hand around his wrist. Fear floods your system as you feel his body tremble violently. After what feels like an eternity, but could only have been a handful of seconds he slowly lifts his head and meets your eyes and the pain reflected in his clear blue eyes almost knocks the wind out of you. 

“I don’t think they’re ever going to stop,” His teeth clench like they want to take back the words as soon as they were spoken. You knew Bucky had struggled with nightmares, particularly before Shuri had removed the brainwashing from his mind in Wakanda. Steve had broken down and told you about it one night after you had shown up at Bucky’s door frantic after hearing his screams. He had never come to you after one before; preferring instead to struggle through them alone or if they were really bad--like tonight--he would hesitantly make his way to Steve’s room to pass out on his couch. You weren’t Steve though--you didn’t have any silly anecdotes from a shared pass to reach your friend--and you really had no idea what you could do. “You were dead.” The words are barely a whisper, and for a moment you weren’t sure what he had said. Then the words hit you. Slowly you release his wrist and wrap your arms around his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to reach. Your stomach screams at the action, but you ignore the pain.

“I’m here,” You whisper just loud enough to be heard and his arms snake themselves around your waist. His eyes are only half open when you look up at him, and he leans forward, his lips clumsily falling on yours while your eyes widen in shock. Too soon he pulls away, and you have to stop yourself from pulling him back and crushing your lips back to his. But you couldn’t do that--looking at him you can tell he’s dead on his feet. He probably wouldn’t even remember the kiss in the morning. But you would; your brain had already memorized the feeling of Bucky barnes warm, slightly chapped lips on yours. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Bucky’s out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, but you still gently tuck the blankets around him. You brush a lock of hair from his forehead and brush your lips against the corner of his before you shut off the light and close the door quietly behind you. 

You head back to bed yourself, your hot cocoa long since forgotten, with your head buzzing and your lips tingling.


	7. Chapter Seven

“Hey, (Y/n),” Steve picks up his pace to match yours as you head towards your room, “Buck was looking for you earlier.” 

“Oh, really?” You ask innocently, while Steve’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Seemed to think you were avoiding him for some reason.” 

“Weird,” You respond absentmindedly as you juggle your plate of food and your coffee to get the door open. Steve slides you gently out of the way to open the door and follows you in. 

“So are you avoiding him?” 

“No.” Steve crosses his arms and leans against the back of your couch, “Okay, maybe a little,” Damn him for being so easy to talk to, “I don’t know. Things have been weird lately.” 

“Weird?” Steve’s brow creases with concern.

“Okay, this does _not_ leave this room, deal? Natasha would have way too much fun with this information.” 

“Of course,” He takes a seat on your couch and you sit next to him, setting your plate down on the table. You start with the night you had come home from the bar and then go into the next morning when the two of you were shooting.

“I don’t know really how to explain it but being around Bucky feels... _different_ somehow all of a sudden. It has since that night,” You take a bite of your sandwich to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, “And then the night before last I was in the kitchen and Bucky came down after a nightmare. It seemed bad, and I wasn’t sure what to do because he usually goes to you about those things. And then he kissed me.”

“Okay.” He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “And?”

“That’s it.” You take another bite while you wait for him to say something. 

“(Y/n), how do you feel about Bucky?”

“He’s one of my best friends,” You say immediately not quite sure where he’s going with this, “I’d do anything for Bucky.” 

“Is that it?” 

Oh. _That’s_ what he’s getting at. You stare at your half eaten lunch for a moment, considering it. You think about the way your heart sped up when he pressed against you at the shooting range, the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips, the taste of him on your lips. Your face grows wam. “I don’t know.” 

“I think you should just see how things go,” Steve says gently, “Who knows, this could be really good for both of you. You don’t know what Buck was like before you came, you brought out the best in him. He’s like a whole different person. And I overheard you talking to him about how you never wanted to have to hide again. You wouldn’t have to with him.”

“I assume since you’re talking him up that Bucky’s said something to you about this,” You eye him reproachfully, while Steve rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. 

“Maybe, maybe not. You guys are adults though, so that’s all I’m going to say on the matter. Now tell me you feel better now and you’re going to stop hiding in your room.” 

“I feel better now and I’m going to stop hiding in my room,” You say with a smile, “I swear I wasn’t though, I was on my way to Tony’s lab post sandwich.”

“Hiding in Stark’s lab isn’t much better than hiding in your room, but I’ll accept it. Just talk to Bucky, okay? I don’t want things to get weird.”

“No weirdness, got it.” You pop the last of your sandwich in your mouth and throw him a salute. “Aye aye Captain.”

 

* * *

 

“Finally,” Tony says when you walk in, “Thought you weren’t going to show up.” 

“Sorry, I was accosted by Captain Rogers,” You tell him while giving him your best _I don’t want to talk about it look_. 

“Okay, juicy as that sounds, I’ll let it pass. How’s your battle wound?” 

“Healing,” You lift the edge of your t-shirt to show him the gruesome splotch on your skin. The sight of it makes him wince.

“Think you’re up to testing the latest prototype?” 

“I think I’ll manage,” You reply dryly, following him to the back of his lab. The suit itself is gorgeous, and as always you find yourself marveling over Tony’s talent. The color was a deep maroon that shimmered slightly in the fluorescents.

“Try it out.” 

You gather a ball of fire in your hand and throw it at the suit where it disappears with no damage. Your eyes widen, “Tony it works!”

“I’m hurt--I’m Tony Stark of _course_ it works,” Like this wasn’t the hundredth prototype, “I have a few more things to work out and then we’ll get you in it for some field tests. Now shoo, I’ve got work to do.” 

“Rude.”

“ _Bye._ ”

 

* * *

 

The smell of popcorn hits you as you leave the lab and you smile. Sam must be having a movie night. It’s a common enough event in the compound; Sam was personally offended by the Super Soldier’s lack of pop culture knowledge and was determined to correct it one classic movie at a time. Part of you still wants to hide in your room, but Steve’s words have hooked themselves into your brain. No weirdness. You could do that.

Wanda and Vision sit on the loveseat, while Sam, Bucky, and Steve take the couch. You smile as you walk around the furniture, “What are we watching?” 

“(Y/n),” Steve grins when he sees you, “Here, sit.” Sam grumbles as Steve slides over, leaving you a sliver of couch beside Bucky, of course. You smile tentatively at the dark haired man as you stand in front of him, and he returns it easily, eyes crinkling. All of a sudden the whole thing seems silly and you fall into the space next to him. 

“We’re watching Pulp Fiction,” Bucky says quietly in response to your unanswered question. 

“Nice choice,” You tell Sam, “Haven’t seen this one in ages.” 

“It’s a classic,” He agrees, pressing play. Around twenty minutes the dull throbbing in your stomach upgrades to sharp pain from your upright posture. You gently lean into Bucky’s side a little bit to relieve the ache. He lifts his arm over the back of the couch to give you more room, and you relax into his side. 

The movie is one of your favorites, but you only make it about halfway before you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. The plot becomes loose, and soon you’re only able to discern colors and movement, but mostly your confused thoughts revolve around how _warm_ you feel. 

You’re not sure how long you were out, but you could hear the boys talking quietly.

“I got her,” Bucky murmurs, gently shifting you off of him while the other two shuffle out of the room. You want to tell Bucky to just leave you, but you can’t manage to form the words. His arms slip around you and lift you to his chest and then you’re moving. Your eyes crack open and you find yourself looking up at Bucky’s face and the small smile on his lips. Happy Bucky. You tuck your face against his neck. 

It feels like hours before you’re being laid across your bed, covers spread over your limp body. Your eyes open again and he looks down at you with an almost wistful expression.

“Hi,” He says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Hi Bucky,” Your voice is thick with sleep, “Thanks for taking me to bed.”

“Anytime doll.”

“Bucky?”

He smiles, “What?” 

“You’re my best friend.” He smiles and leans down, touching his lips to your forehead.

 

* * *

 

The next morning you find yourself watching another movie; turns out there’s not a lot to do around the compound if you can’t train. Natasha and Wanda were curled up together on the love seat so you had the couch to yourself and were currently burritoed in your favorite blanket, a bowl of chips balanced on your chest. 

“Another movie?” Bucky snags a handful of chips from your bowl as he leans against the side of the couch.

“Shh!” Natasha shoots him a look and he holds up his hands defensively.

“Sheesh,” He says quieter, lifting your legs and sliding underneath them on the couch.

“You won’t like this one,” You tell him quietly, “It’s a girly one.” He just smiles and pops a chip into his mouth. You eventually forget he’s there and get into the movie; you had seen it several times before and it never failed to make you cry. Today wasn’t an exception. A tear slips from beneath your lashes and you glance at Bucky, embarrassed, but he’s not looking at you. His eyes are focused on the movie, his expression thoughtful. 

“To me you are perfect,” You hear Wanda breath the words on the screen, her voice thick, and you glance at Bucky again. His hand absentmindedly rubs at your calf through the blanket as his eyes watch the screen and suddenly you feel...stupid. Whatever dance you and Bucky were in, you were stupid to want to avoid it, stupid to think you could. 

“Hey guys, suit up.” Steve says coming up beside the couch. He’s in his tactical uniform. “We’ve got a mission. Wanda, you and Nat are with Tony,” Natasha groans at that, “Buck, (Y/n), you’re with me.” 

“Steve she can’t go on a mission like that,” Bucky frowns and gestures in the vague direction of your injury.

“She’s just driving,” Steve looks at you, “You think you’re good to drive?” 

“For sure,” You sit up gingerly and pull your legs off Bucky, letting the blanket slip to the floor.

Upstairs you change into your tactical suit and shove your mask into one of the pockets and holster one of your guns on your hip. Better over prepared than under prepared. 

You run into Steve on your way down to the garage and narrow your eyes.

“You know your little couch trick wasn’t sly,” You tell him wryly, “I know what you’re doing.” 

“Just trying to make sure there’s no weirdness,” He falls into step beside you.

“You’re the weird one,” You retort, rolling your eyes. “And stop trying to play cupid, you’re not good at it.”

“I’m not playing cupid,” Steve replies, “I think the arrow’s already been shot, you’re just being stubborn.”

“How am I being stubborn? It’s not like,” You glance around confirming no one was around, but still whisper your next word, “Bucky has made his theoretical affection obvious.” 

Steve looked shocked for a moment, before shaking his head, “I forget sometimes that you haven’t been around that long. When Bucky first got back from Wakanda, he was a million times better than the last time I had seen him. More himself, I guess. But the Bucky I’ve seen since you showed up? It’s like all that crap with HYDRA never happened.” You were approaching the car now, Sam already inside, and you both slowed your pace, “Do you remember the night Stark threw that party? Right after you got here?” 

“How could I forget?” Your head was spinning and you knew whatever Steve was about to tell you was going to knock you on your ass, but you listened eagerly all the same. 

“He came to my room later that night, said he couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe he had a nightmare, but no, he just lays across my bed and says, ‘Stevie, I think she’s the one.’”

Something in your chest feels tight but you manage to force the words out, “You’re fucking with me.” You feel like an elephant is sitting on your lungs. 

“You know I’m not,” Steve says gently and before you can do more than nod in response you hear Bucky’s footsteps behind you. 

“Let’s go kick some ass,” He grins, clapping you and Steve on your shoulders before climbing into the car.

“Hey, how could you not fall for that charm?” Steve laughs softly and you roll your eyes. What a day.

 

* * *

 

The mission had gone smoothly, you hadn’t even needed to get out of the car. You were driving back now, in the backseat Sam and Steve were dozing while Bucky kept you company in the front.

“Do you miss Wakanda?” You ask Bucky softly as the thought occurs to you. He rarely spoke of his time there, but when he did it was always with a certain sense of wistfulness. You had always been curious about his time there and the procedure, but you had never had the guts to ask him about it. 

“Things were...simpler there.” Bucky responds after a moment of thought, “I guess it was the first time in my adult life I was neither fighting or running. The people there were kind. The king is a good man. I owe both him and his sister a great debt.” 

“I’m glad you found some sort of peace there,” You reach over and change the radio station before bringing you arm over to the arm rest. Bucky’s arm is already there, and your fingertips hit his cool metal ones. Your heart speeds up, but you make no attempt to move them. You can feel Bucky’s gaze on your face but you keep your eyes on the road. Then you feel his fingers gently intertwine with yours, not quite holding hands, but just your fingertips. 

This time there’s no nervous adrenaline this time that you would’ve expected at his touch, instead a warmth; a feeling of rightness flows through you. You peek at Bucky out of the corner of your eye, he’s facing the passenger window now, but you can see the smile on his lips and know that he’s feeling the same thing. 

Your fingers don’t separate until you’re back at the compound and forced to put the car into park. “Up and at ‘em boys,” You call, your voice surprisingly nonchalant. 

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Sam says through a yawn, “Superheroes don’t need naps.” 

“Uh huh,” You unlock the car and get out, “Guess you’re not so super then bird-boy.” 

“Yeah, what’s your power again?” Bucky winks at you.

“Ha ha,” Sam rolls his eyes as he shuts the door behind him, “Let’s do that rematch soon (Y/l/n), then we’ll see what’s up.” 

“Anytime Wilson, any time.”

 

* * *

 

“Hello,” You look up as Vision walks into the kitchen. You were flipping through a magazine with a cup of tea, and you smile warmly at him.

“Hey Vis, cooking for Wanda again?” 

“Looking for you actually, Sergeant Barnes asked me to pass on a message.” 

“Oh?” Your heart does something funny at the sound of his name. 

“He said he’s going up to the roof, and requests that you join him.” 

“Alright...that’s not weird at all,” You give the android an odd look, “Anything else?”

“I suggest you make haste.” 

“Oookay,” You stand up, setting your cup in the sink, “Thanks. I think.” Vision gives you a smile and you head towards the roof. As you head up the stairs you can hear faint music; you open the door and your heart jumps up to your throat. 

Bucky turns around, around him the roof had been decorated with glittering white christmas lights, illuminating the little area he had set up with a bottle of wine. Soft music plays from the outside speakers, you don’t recognize the song but the melody is slow and pleasant. 

You try for casual, cocking your lips up, “What’s all this?” 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Bucky’s voice is quiet, “Long before you were alive doll, but I figure the basics haven’t changed all that much.” He takes a few steps forward, his flesh hand reaching towards yours. You take it and he leads you into further onto the roof and pulls you close to him, “I’m taking you dancin’.” 

He leads you gently, mindful of the tender area above your naval. And you rest your head on his shoulder as he pulls you close. As the last notes of the song play he bends slightly to capture your lips with his. It’s slow and sweet, and feels like the first breath of fresh air after you hold your breath for too long. Relief. When he pulls away he leans his forehead against yours, “That should of been our first kiss.” 

“You remember that?” You narrow your eyes, “You never said anything.” 

“I figured you avoiding me afterwards was you saying you didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“Sorry about that I...I didn’t know I wanted this,” You admit.

“But you do?” There’s something nervous in his tone; he’s honestly unsure of your feelings. Several replies run through your brain, some sarcastic, some sappy, but you shoot them all down. Instead you press your lips against his again as his arms tighten around you. You had never been in love, but this didn’t feel like falling. Instead it felt like something had just slipped into its proper place; as natural as breathing.

* * *

“I’ve got a confession to make,” Bucky smiles lazily at you as the two of you sit under the lights, enjoying the wine that had most certainly come from Tony’s private stash, “Natasha and Steve helped me set all this up.”

“I had a feeling Natasha had her fingers in this somehow,” You hold up a foil wrapped square, “This was stashed under the bottle of wine.” You both laugh before lapsing into a comfortable silence. “So...Steve told me something, and I was wondering if it was true.”

“Meddling punk,” Bucky shakes his head, “Let me guess. About the night of Stark’s party?” You nod. “Of course he told you that. Yeah, it’s true.” 

“Bucky...Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Guess I thought it over too much,” Bucky chuckles, “Didn’t want to ruin a good thing. Plus I don’t know--I guess I feel like maybe I just have too much baggage.”

“You? I’m literally on the run from the United States government,” You remind him, “I think I can handle a little baggage.” 

“Mmm,” He hums, his face pressed into your hair, “I guess so.”


	8. Chapter Eight

“Good morning,” FRIDAYs disembodied voice fills your bedroom and you let out a soft groan, “Sorry to wake you. Captain Rogers needs everyone to report to the conference room as soon as possible.” At her words the lights in your room come on and you throw your arm over your face to block out the light. 

“What time is it?” Bucky grumbles from beside you, and you hazard a look at your clock.

“Six.” You frown, “Something must have happened.” 

“Something’s always happening,” Bucky’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you against him so he can nuzzle his face into your neck. “Let’s stay in bed.” 

“And have Tony turn on the sprinkler system?” You giggle, “You can try that one in your room buddy.” 

“Oh come on,” You feel him smile against your skin, “You don’t mind getting a little...wet.” His fingers trail down your stomach at his words, sending shivers down your spine.

“Captain Rogers is insisting that you two come down to the conference room immediately.” FRIDAY tries again, and Bucky’s fingers halt in their path.

“Meddling punk,” Bucky mumbles and sits up, “Alright, tell him to stop nagging we’re coming.” You slip out of bed and toss Bucky a pair of sweatpants while you pull on a t-shirt. Once you’re dressed the two of you head downstairs. 

* * *

The news is playing when you walk into the conference room where everyone is sitting, and you silently take your seat.

“A group of unregistered mutant terrorists calling themselves COBRA launched an attack on several key members of the United States government today, no word on how many casualties as of yet. The FBI has asked anyone with any information on these attacks to please call this number--” Steve turns the channel, “--seems that a number of anti-mutant rallies have started up in major cities including NYC, Seattle, and Los Angeles--” He hits the button again, “Two humans were killed in their home during an anti-mutant rally this evening, increasing tensions between mutants and humans--” He hits the power switch and the screen goes black. 

“We’ve been monitoring this situation for awhile now, but things are escalating quickly. I think it’s time we step in before things reach a point we can’t return from.”

“The government does not want the Avenger’s involved in this.” Rhodie says sternly. 

“We don’t have a choice at this point, if we don’t a lot of innocent people are going to get hurt,” Steve snaps, “We can’t just sit by and let it happen.”

“We’ve been over this Rogers. We do not know enough about this organization to launch an attack,” Rhodie says without missing a beat, “We don’t know how large it is. How many bases they have. We could also make things a whole lot worse.” 

“Perhaps there’s a compromise,” Vision offers, “Some way we could ensure that our actions would not be problematic.” Someone responds, but your mind is drifting back to Boston and the tattoo on Justine’s wrist. The angry cobra, fangs dripping venom. Her anger at the anti-mutant legislation.

“Me,” You say suddenly, “I can do it.”

Bucky’s head swings around and his eyes meet yours, while Steve’s head cocks in confusion. “Do what?”

“We need intel on this organization of hostile mutants, I’m an unregistered mutant. I can get in, find out what we need to know, and then we can shut it down.”

“No.” Bucky frowns, “No way are you going in there by yourself.”

“It’s not like any of you can come with me, they all know your faces, know who you are. No one has seen me since the robbery and no one knows I’ve been here. I can tell them I’ve been on the run.” 

“I don’t like it.” Steve shakes his head, “There’s got to be a better way.” 

“There’s no way the government could find out that (Y/n) was acting as an Avenger,” Rhodie adds approvingly.

“If (Y/n) could gain access to information about bases and numbers it would allow us to make the most informed move possible as to not agitate the situation,” Vision offers while Bucky shakes his head angrily.

“She would be on her own, with no back up. If something happens and she was found out…” He trails off with a grimace.

“Not to mention if she gets picked up the government isn’t going to believe she’s a spy. It’ll be shoot first and ask questions later,” Natasha frowns, “She’ll have to watch her back on both ends.” 

“She can handle it,” Tony says quietly, “It’s her choice.” Bucky’s head swings in his direction now, eyes blazing. 

“I can do this,” You say, “I have to do this.” The second half of your statement is directed towards Bucky, who’s mouth hardens into a thin line. 

“Alright. (Y/n) will infiltrate COBRA. We need to get your story straight.” Steve sighs.

“And change her look up a bit,” Natasha says, “No one is going to believe you’ve been roughing it the way you look right now.”

“How are you planning on finding these people?” Sam asks doubtfully, “They could be anywhere.” 

“There are a lot of mutants out there,” You reply, “One of them is bound to know something about this.” 

 

* * *

 

You slip on the worn leather jacket you hadn’t put on since the night you ran from Chicago and look at your reflection in the mirror. Previously you had been counting on your healthier looks and more expensive wardrobe to hide your identity, but now your hair had been cropped into a rough pixie cut and the clothes on your back were barebones. Sitting on the floor in the living room was a battered duffle bag filled with a few necessities. You had enough cash on you to get about a month's worth of time at an extended stay hotel on the outskirts of the city. Tony had decided that if after that you hadn’t found anything you would regroup and try somewhere else. 

You run your fingers through your hair and turn around. Bucky’s sitting on your bed, his back to you and you sit next to him, setting your head on his shoulder.

“If anything happens…”

“I’m coming back Bucky,” You tell him softly, “I’m going to come home.” 

“Okay,” He presses his lips against your hair, “I trust you.”

“Good,” You turn, capturing his lips with yours, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon.” 

 

* * *

 

You’ve been scoping out the place for over an hour waiting for someone to exit or enter the building but you’d had no such luck. You were starting to thing this lead was even phonier than your last. You had been out here for a little over three weeks with nothing to show for it besides a black eye and a split lip after an attempted mugging. The other guys were probably eating through straws right now, so there was that. 

You kneel down, keeping your eyes on the doorway, but let your mind wander back home. You wondered what they were all doing right now. Tony was probably in his lab, Bruce too unless Natasha had dragged him out--maybe they were all in the living room watching one of Sam’s classic movie picks. Most of all you wondered what Bucky was doing. When you would see him again. God--what you wouldn’t give to be curled up on the sofa next to him, a bowl of popcorn on your lap.

The door swings open and you soundlessly rise to your feet. A man dressed in black leans against the wall, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You slip around the wall, approaching him confidently. Wordlessly, you lean on the wall next to him. You raise your hand towards his half raised cigarette and snap your fingers, igniting a little flame atop them.

“Need a light?” You ask, putting on your most sultry tone. He puts the cigarette to his lips and you bring the flame to it. The firelight illuminates a dark tattoo on his wrist; a cobra. Bingo. 

“Thanks gorgeous. Something I can help you with?” 

“I think maybe you can. I’m looking for a certain organization who I believe may have a similar agenda to my own.” 

“And that is?”

“A mutant overthrow of the current governing body,” You say conversationally, “It’s time for change.” 

“Hmm, now that does sound interesting. I think maybe there is someone you should meet. Why don’t you come with me and I can make the introduction?” 

“Perfect, lead the way.” 

Your heart is pounding as the door slams behind you, leaving you in a dimly lit hallway. You follow behind him, memorizing the path the two of you take. Finally you enter a large warehouse area, and your eyes widen as you take in the scene. At least two hundred mutants are crowded into the area, some on sleeping bags, others crowded around flaming barrels for warmth. You immediately understood their unfortunate living conditions as all of them had some kind of physical mutation. These were the ones who couldn’t hide in plain sight. 

“Come on, the boss will be back here.” He pushes aside a tarp and you walk through. Sitting around a table are several people, talking amongst themselves although they immediately quiet as they turn around and see you. You barely notice as your mind can only focus on one thing; the woman sitting at the head of the table; Justine.

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes widen, “I thought--I saw you on the news--I thought for sure you had been caught.” 

“I saw you get shot. You were dead.” Your words are barely a whisper, “I saw you die.”

Her hand pulls her shirt over to show you the scar on her chest, just above her heart,”I survived.” She stands up, engulfing you in her arms, “I knew someday you would find me again,” She whispers in your ear, “I knew one day you would see things my way.” 

* * *

“What do you know about the Mutant Registration Act?” Justine asks once the two of you are alone in your office. You try and remember what’s public knowledge versus the behind the scenes information you had gained from the Avengers.

“Just what everyone else does, I guess,” You say carefully, “The government is requiring mutants to register, and are implanting a microchip so they can be tracked.” 

“That’s true, but what the general public doesn’t know is the dirty little secret hidden in the microchip.” Justine pulls out a manilla folder and holds it out to you. Mouth dry you take it and open it, in front of you are several paper schematics of the microchip. How she got a hold of them you had no idea, but laid out in front of you on paper instead of the 3D model in Bruce’s lab are the same designs. 

You shuffle through the pages, glad they gave you time to decide how to play this. You pretend to look back and forth between the two models. Even without the 3D schematic the kill switch is obvious to you, but you’re not sure if that’s just because you know it’s there. Justine is looking at you expectantly so you set down the folder and point to the secondary layer behind the tracker. “This shouldn’t be here,” You say, narrowing your eyes, “What is it?” 

“It’s a kill switch,” Justine says gently, “With a press of one button those government bastards could kill every single one of us--that’s registered of course.” You twist your face into a mask of shock, and she nods grimly.

“You’re lucky you never registered--guess some of my ranting from back in the day must have stuck.”

“I only wish I would’ve listed to you sooner,” You shake your head, “Maybe together we could of done something about all this.” Justine sets her hand on top of yours, and your eyes dart from the cobra on her wrist to her face.

“Together, we will.”


	9. Chapter Nine

“Hey you!” You look up, eyes wide, your hand tightens around the wrapped deli sandwich you had been slipping under your jacket, “Get your grubby thieving hands off my merchandise!” The man coming at you is almost twice your height and five times your width, and the sandwich tumbles from your hands as he grabs the back of your shirt and pulls you towards the door, with one large hand he shoves you forward and you tumble out onto the sidewalk, skinning your hands and knees as you hit the pavement. “--And if I see you in here one more time I’m calling the cops. Go home kid.” You turn so you’re sitting and examine the newly ripped holes in the knees of your jeans, where blood is already seeping out of the torn skin. Tears burn behind your eyelids at the humiliation, and then a different kind of burn begins to itch in your palms. 

The panic is almost suffocating but you manage to scramble to your feet and into the alleyway next to the store before the flames erupt on your skin, spreading quickly from your palms to your fingertips. You cast a horrified glance behind you to make sure no one had noticed you before you return your gaze to the problem--literally--at hand. 

“Come on--” You whimper quietly trying to stifle the flames, “Come on!”

“Panicking isn’t going to help you know.” Your heart leaps up into your chest, and you shift your position from a crouch to your full height, your hands held out protectively in front of you as the flames spread to engulf your wrists. The girl standing in front of you looks to be about your age. She’s standing in front of you with her hands on her denim covered hips and her frizzy dark hair pulled into two short pigtails on either side of her head. “Hey, it’s alright!” She says gently, taking a tentative step towards you, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been watching you for awhile now.” 

“You have?” You try to make yourself sound tough, but it sounds weak even to your ears, “Why? Who are you?” 

“My name is Justine,” The girl’s full lips stretch into a smile, and the contrast between her dark skin and her brilliantly white teeth is stunning. “I’m just like you, see?” Keeping her eyes on you she kneels down, placing her hands flat against the ground. Immediately the concrete frosts over, completely at odds with the warm summer day. 

“You’re...like...me?” The words feel odd in your mouth and you’re barely aware of the flames receding until they disappear entirely.

“Yup,” She pops the ‘p’, “I’ve had a feeling about you for awhile now, but I had to be 100% sure, you know how it is. But when I saw that--” She gestures towards your hands, “--I knew it was time to make my move.”

“But how did you know?” You press, but Justine just smiles.

“Maybe we should talk some place more private. I’ve got an apartment a couple of blocks away. Why don’t you come with me? You look like you could do with a hot shower and a warm meal--no offense.”

You hesitate a moment, but the ache in your stomach forces you to nod. “Are your parents home?” You ask tentatively as the two of you walk, and your eyes watch her lips curl in a bitter smile.

“No idea. I know they’re definitely not at my apartment though. As far as I know they’re still in Omaha.”

“You’re on your own?” 

“Just like you.”

“But how do you have your own place?” You ask, “How do you pay for it?”

“My job,” She laughs, “I know, I look much too young to be working. That’s what all my past employers have said, before I showed them my fake ID of course.”

“Fake ID?” 

“You have a lot to catch up on girl, but we’ll get you there. The trick is to find places that don’t ask too many questions. Seedy bars, strip joints, places like that. If they pay under the table it’s even better. The less paper trail you leave the better. Just in case you find yourself in deep water--you know what I mean?” You nod even though you don’t. 

Justine’s apartment is small and in a part of town you typically tried to avoid, but the inside is neat and tidy.

“Grab a shower, bathroom’s through there. I’ll whip up some food. Oh, here--” She darts into an open door and comes out with a bundle of fabric, “Something to change into.”

When you come out feeling significantly cleaner than you had in weeks Justine is setting the table. You look down at the sandwich and mac and cheese and your mouth immediately begins to salivate. “Help yourself,” She says, pressing a cold can of soda into your hands, “You must be hungry.”

 

* * *

 

“I hate this place,” You tell Justine, leaning against the brick wall outside of the strip club. Justine grabs your hand and you obligingly light her cigarette, “I wish we were still in Topeka.” 

“Me too hun,” Justine offers you the pack and you take one, bringing your lit finger to the tip of it. “Some creep grope you or something?” 

“When isn’t some creep groping at me?” You ask, and you both laugh.

After a long silence Justine clears her throat softly, “I’ve been thinking...I think we should go to Boston.”

“Boston?” You snort, “Why Boston?

“So the other night I met this guy--I knew right away he was one of us--you know how I can just tell--and after my shift I met up with him and some of his friends, all like us--”

“--So that’s where you were. You said you were working late!” You say accusingly, but Justine just waves you off.

“--No, listen. So they start telling me about how some mutants--”

“--Shh!” You look around, “Not so loud!”

“Will you just listen?” Justine rolls her eyes, “they started telling me about how some _people like us_ have been getting together in Boston, getting organized and stuff.”

“Getting organized for what?”

“To do something!” Justine throws her hands up and your eyes drift over the newly healed tattoo on her wrist, “To start protesting this registration act.” 

“Come on, that’ll never pass,” You drop the cigarette butt on the ground and stomp it out with your heel while Justine does the same, “People won’t let it happen.” 

“Come on (Y/n),” Justine grabs your arms and forces you to look at her, “You’re not the naive 14 year old girl I met in Indianapolis anymore. You’ve seen how it is, haven’t you? You know how people feel about us. (Y/n) they hate us.” 

“They don’t understand--”

“ _They just don’t understand us_ ,” Justine mocks, but not altogether cruelly, “They hate us.” She repeats firmer this time. “They wish we didn’t exist--don’t argue, you know it’s true,” Your lips part but no words come out, and you cast your gaze downwards to avoid her eyes, “But if we go, we could have a chance to do something good, to stop this law from being passed. So come on, say you’ll come with me to Boston.” 

You hesitate a moment, but looking into your eyes you know that she’s going either way. You can’t imagine being on your own again, not after seeing how much better life was with Justine in it. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. At night you and Justine worked at another club, this one ironically named Fire and Ice, and during the day you trained. Shooting, martial arts, defensive tactics; you watched your previously soft body harden over the months, your instincts sharpen like razors, and your powers flourish as you trained them. 

It was amazing, being around other mutants, and Justine had taken to the group which simply called themselves ARM (Anti-registration mutants) with a flourish, quickly establishing herself as a key part of the group. Even so, you found yourself with many doubts. For a group who claimed to be working towards mutant rights, a group that claimed to be peaceful, they were becoming increasingly and increasingly militant. 

“Girl,” Justine says interrupting your thoughts as she falls onto the sofa next to you, “That fireball thing you did during training was sick.”

“Thanks,” You mumble, avoiding her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know about all this Justine, maybe we should move on.”

“Move on?” Her lips curl into a frown, “Why the hell would we move on when we’ve finally found a home.” 

“A home? Justine...I don’t know about these people.” You admit, “I know they claim to want peace but...it seems like they’re gearing up for war.” 

“Well maybe we should be!” Justine exclaims, jumping up to her feet, “The mutant registration act is gaining traction, if nothing happens soon it’s going to pass.”

“Have you considered that maybe all these protests, the vandalism, and everything else is ensuring that it’s going to happen?” You offer, “You’re scaring people.”

“We need to be heard,” Justine says simply, sitting back down, “I want you to be happy here. You’re my best friend (Y/n), and I want you to be beside me.” She lays her hand on top of yours, “Together we will change the world. Please don’t go.” Before you can register what’s happening, she leans forward and presses her full lips to yours; shock floods your system and you freeze, until suddenly you pull back, eyes wide.

“Justine--I--You’re my best _friend_ ,” You stammer, still leaning back. You watch as something flickers in Justine’s eyes, and she stands up again.

“I’ve got to go,” She says, not looking at you, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 

* * *

 

The next few days there seems to be an icy feeling to the air in your shared apartment. You’re unsure whether it’s in your head or if it’s Justine’s doing. You hadn’t talked about the kiss, and neither of you seemed willing to bring it up; causing the two of you to be oddly formal when you spoke. 

That’s why it surprised you when Justine was sitting on the couch waiting for you when you returned from work, a smile on her lips. “Hey, can I talk to you a sec?” 

“Sure,” You tossed your bag down, “What’s up?” 

“We’re all heading down to DC tonight for a big protest, right in front of the white house, hundreds of us. We’ve been working on this for months now, and it’s time.”

“Justine I--”

“Before you say anything, I want you to know that I’m going, and there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind. But I want you to come with me. This is it, our final stand. This is our chance to make history.” Your eyes drift down to the open bag on the couch next to her, and the pistol sitting on top of her packed clothing.

“What are you guys doing?” Your voice is barely a whisper, “Justine, what are you guys planning?” 

“Will you come?” 

“Justine, stop this, please,” You beg, “You’re going to end up dead, all of you.” 

“Okay. That’s what I thought.” Justine shrugs, her eyes hard, “They told me you wouldn’t. Told me to ditch you months ago. I said you were different. I said you were a fighter. I guess I was wrong.” She stands up, grabbing her bag, “If you change your mind, we’re meeting at noon the day after tomorrow.”

You expect her to head to her room, but she walks out the front door, slamming it behind her as she leaves. You sit frozen on the sofa, before you slowly pull your knees up to your chest and bury your face into your arms.

 

* * *

 

You make your decision with only hours to spare, and find yourself on the side of the highway, your scarce belonging in a duffle bag on your back, your leather jacket wrapped tightly around yourself to protect from the chill in the air. You don’t have to wait long before a truck pulls over.

“Where you headed?” The man calls out the window, and you pull open the door.

“DC?” 

“It’s your lucky day then, come on.” You climb into the seat, setting your duffle between your feet. “What’s in DC?” 

“A friend,” You say softly, watching the landscape go by the window, “I’ve got to stop a friend from doing something stupid.” 

“Hah, we’ve all been there,” The trucker says, “Just make sure that friend doesn’t bring you down with them eh?”

* * *

You find yourself running through the streets of DC, until finally you see them grouped together, marching towards the white house and the swat team waiting. You shove your way through the throng of people, until you see her. You grab her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“You came! I knew you would come!” Justine’s elation stabs you like a knife to the chest, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Justine you have to stop this!” You have to shout to be heard over the rioting mutants, “They’ve got SWAT waiting for you at the white house!”

“SO WHAT?” Justine shouts in response, her face twisting in anger, “I would die a thousand times to stop this bill from passing, don’t you get that?” She shakes you off, “If you want to spend your life hiding like a rat, then do it!” You watch horrified as she fights her way to the front of the crowd, and then they stop in front of the swat team. You hear Justine shout something at the armed men, and then they open fire into the crowd.

You scramble for cover, taking refuge behind a nearby building as your heart beats wildly in our chest and the tears run down your face. Choked sobs escape you as you blindly move away from the scene, unaware where your feet are taking you.

“Are you okay?” An older woman asks, placing her hand on your shoulder, “Do you need help sweetie? Did someone hurt you?”

“Train station,” You gasp out the words, “Where’s the train station?” 

She nervously points you in the right direction and you hastily wipe the tears from your face before you arrive. 

“Where you headed?” The man behind the counter asks, and you look up at the board to find the next departure.

“Chicago.”


	10. Chapter 10

You wake up in a cold sweat, and unconsciously reach for Bucky before you remember where you are. Throwing your legs over the side of the motel bed you grab the half filled glass of water sitting on your night stand and down it in one gulp, trying to ignore your shaking hands. 

Part of you, though if you were being honest, most of you, just wanted to pack up and head home now. Tell Steve what you knew, and tell him you couldn’t be involved. Justine had welcomed you back with open arms, her trust and sincerity shining through as she told you all about what she had been doing in the past few years, how she had come to create COBRA, and so much information about the organization that it almost made you sick. 

But...something was holding you back. In all that Justine had told you, there was no mention of any of the violence reported on the news. She hadn’t said anything about the attacks on government employees, nothing about inciting anti-mutant rallies, nothing about killing humans. And now, especially now that you knew Justine was the ringleader of the organization you needed to be 100% sure before you went back. 

With that thought in mind you throw on your beaten clothes, thinking longingly of your wardrobe back home, and head towards the base. Inside the homeless mutants are already awake, and eating their scant breakfasts. You approach a young girl, who looks about nine with bright blue skin and glowing green eyes. She eyes you warily, and you give her a tentative smile. 

“Hi there,” You say quietly, kneeling down in front of her. From within your jacket you pull out a chocolate bar and hold it out to her, “What’s your name?” 

“Cynthia,” The girl says in a high pitched voice, her eyes hover on the candy bar greedily but she makes no move to reach for it. 

“Hi Cynthia, my name is (Y/n). I thought you might like this.” You nod towards the candy bar. 

“Why?” The girl demands, immediately on edge, “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m like you,” You tell her, and as you speak you hold up your free hand, letting the flames engulf it. “How long have you been here?”

“Couple months,” Cynthia mumbles, hesitantly taking the candy, “Ms. Justine found me in the streets and brought me here. It’s better. Ms. Justine and the others who look normal bring what food they can back for the rest of us. They protect us.” You bite your lip, another wave of guilt flowing through you. Why were you here? These people were just surviving.

* * *

The rest of the mutants you spoke to over the following weeks said the same things. You had assisted in supply runs, helped find mutants on the run, and besides the nagging guilt that was quickly building up in the pit of your stomach it was like you and Justine had never been apart. Her pure joy at the two of you finding one another again made you feel like you were going to vomit every time her face lit up at you walking in the room, and every day you felt like the mission you were on was more and more pointless. In fact, more and more you were wondering if the Avengers were wrong, and COBRA had just become a scapegoat for the government to boister the public’s fear of mutants. 

But, there was only one way to know for sure. There was only one locked door in COBRA’s base, only one room you had never been inside of. And you knew you couldn’t go home until you saw what was inside. Unfortunately you had very little time on base that Justine wasn’t by your side or there weren’t various other tattooed mutants mulling around. It wasn’t until a month had passed that an opportunity presented itself.

 

* * *

 

“(Y/n)!” Justine came rushing out of her office, dressed in what looked like kevlar, “You got my message then. We’ve got a rescue mission.”

“Right, where are we going?” 

“I need you to stay here,” Justine said, glancing at her watch, “I need my team, but I can’t leave everyone undefended.”

“I can do that,” You say immediately, “Is everything okay?” 

“No time to explain,” She slid a black backpack over her shoulders and started towards the door, “I’ll be back soon.” 

Heart beating in your chest you sit in Justine’s office, waiting what feels like hours but is only ten minutes to make sure they’re gone. You check her desk for a key, but come up empty handed. You glance at the clock again, they had already been gone twenty minutes--but surely they’d be gone an hour at the least. 

You pull the lock pick you’d taken to keeping in your boot--should this exact situation arise--and head over to the door. 

Despite your somewhat shady past, you had never really learned to pick locks besides Nat’s crash course before you had left--in your current line of work you were more likely to shoot a lock than try and pick it, but in this situation you imagined that would be a dead giveaway. After several tense minutes the lock slid over and you pushed the door open. 

The room looked like a smaller version of the Avenger’s conference rooms, however there were no chair surrounding the tables. On the walls were several maps with pins stuck in various locations. One section directly behind the table had pictures of several older men, some with x’s over their faces. Your heart sank as you realized they had to be the government officials that had been attacked. You crossed the room and picked up a red notebook off the table. Despite the time apart you recognized Justine’s handwriting at once, but the words read like the journal of an insane person. From sections outlining a world where humans were slaves to the enhanced to lists of people she was planning on eliminating, with an alarming amount of names already crossed out. As you flipped through it towards the back your name caught your eye, and you stopped to read:

“(Y/n) has come back to me, as I always knew in my heart she would. For now she must be kept in the dark regarding the more militant aspects of our organization, she is different from what I remember, but she is still soft. Her compassion has always been her weakness, but in time I know she will come to see things my way. She will see the necessity of what we do. And together we will usher in a new age as it was always meant to be. For now we must use the momentum we’ve gathered through our attacks to work on expanding outside of this base, especially now that there are so many mutants gathered here. After today’s assassination I’m going to request that (Y/n) start a training program for the mutants, the more we can get fighting the better.”

You close your eyes for a moment, fighting the tears that threaten to fall as you return the notebook to its original place. You’re locking the room back up when you hear the van pull up outside and you quickly grab a book from Justine’s shelf at random and fall into her seat just as the door opens. 

“Hey, how’d everything go?” You hope your voice sounds casual enough, but Justine just sighs, falling into the chair across from you.

“No luck,” She frowns, “But we’ll keep trying. In the meantime I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Sure, what’s up?” 

“I was hoping that you could start up a little training group, you know, maybe teach some of the people around here some self defence tips or something. It’s getting dangerous out there, and I worry what will happen if any of them get cornered.”

“I’d be glad to help out,” You respond, forcing a smile and rising to your feet, “We can start first thing in the morning.”

“Are you leaving already?” Justine asks, “I was hoping maybe we could do dinner.”

“I’m pretty beat,” You admit, not together dishonestly, “But how about lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Justine smiles, “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

* * *

The minute you’re back in the motel room you start throwing your things into the duffle, your mind seemed to be hyper focused on just getting the hell out of town until something Justine said flits through your brain causing your hands to still. 

Crazy as she apparently was, Justine was right about something; the majority of the mutants in the base were completely innocent and helpless under attack, you would have to act very carefully to minimize the risk of unnecessary casualties.

* * *

The compound is silent when you arrive in the dead of night and you’re relieved you won’t have to deal with anything until the morning. You slip upstairs but your feet take you to Bucky’s room instead of your own. You see him stir when you gently close the door behind you and you quickly shed your clothes; he lifts the blanket as you approach and you slide behind the sheets. Wordlessly he pulls you to him and your bury your face into his neck, breathing in his familiar and comforting scent. 

“I missed you,” Bucky murmurs quietly into your skin, “Did you--” You cut him off, pressing your lips to his. 

“In the morning,” You tell him softly, brushing your fingertips along his jaw, “We can talk about it in the morning.”

* * *

It’s late morning when you finally roll out of bed; you know the rest of the team knew the moment you arrived and you feel a rush of affection at them all that they hadn’t bombarded you immediately upon arrival. 

As much as you wanted to delay the inevitable, you knew you needed to make a move as soon as possible. Would Justine think you had been captured when you disappeared? Or would she work out the truth--that you weren’t to be trusted. You didn’t know for sure, and that made time of the essence in this situation.

“You okay doll?” Bucky’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you realized you had stopped halfway through pulling on your t-shirt. You quickly slip your other arm through the hole and nod.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” You admit, “Come on, I’m sure everyone’s waiting for me.” 

Sure enough everyone’s in the conference room when you arrive, and Wanda shoves a cup of tea in your hands the moment you walk in which you take gratefully.

“We weren’t expecting you back so early,” Steve says as you sit down, “Did something happen?” 

You shake your head, “It just took less time than I thought to get the intel we needed.”

“But you did get it?” Rhodie asks, ignoring the dirty look Bucky sends him.

“Yeah. They’re in a warehouse in the city, there’s about thirty members of the operation, they all have a cobra tattooed on their wrist. They’re planning on overthrowing the government and putting mutants in power. They are behind the assassinations that have been happening.”

“Thirty, that’s better than we thought,” Natasha muses, “But all enhanced?”

You nod, “But...there’s around two hundred other mutants living in the warehouse. People with physical mutations that can’t just hide in plain sight like the rest of us. They’re not fighters, and they don’t know about the rest of it. COBRA has been feeding and sheltering them. Some of them are kids.” You direct this last part at Steve, who sighs running his hand through his hair.

“So we won’t be able to just bust in there, guns blazing.” 

“These people have nowhere else to go,” You tell him, “If we destroy this organization…”

“We might as well be throwing the mutants straight into a government prison.” 

“We’ll have to go about this carefully then,” Wanda says gently.

“Do you think it’ll raise alarms that you’ve disappeared?” Steve asks. You think for a second, before you slowly shake your head.

“How on earth did you get them to trust you so fast?” Natasha asks, “You were only there a few weeks.”

“I--I knew the leader.”

“What? How?” Steve asks and you make a split second decision.

“We met a few times, we lived in the same city for awhile. Years ago.” Bucky stiffens beside you for some reason, but you shake it off.

“Will it be a problem when we make our move?” 

“Not at all.”

 

* * *

 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks as the two of you sit side by side, your dinner plates balanced on your laps as your legs dangle off the edge of the roof.

“What’s up?” 

“Why did you lie earlier when you told Steve you weren’t close with the leader of COBRA?” 

You almost choke on your food, “Why do you think I was lying?” The look Bucky gives you makes you sigh, “Because I don’t want to be left behind when we make our move. If he knew the truth there’s no way he would let me come.” 

“You were close then?” 

“We were just kids when we met, but we were together for awhile. She showed me how to survive on my own,” You take a deep breath, “We joined up with this group of mutants in Boston when the government started rallying behind the Mutant Registration Act, Justine took to it like a moth to a flame. I worried that they were too militant and they were becoming exactly what the public was afraid of when it came to mutants. They decided they were going to march on DC, a last hurrah, Justine wanted me to come. She wanted a lot of things I couldn’t give her… Anyways, we fought about it, she went to DC, I followed her and tried to stop her, but she was just so determined. Then a SWAT team open fired into the crowd.”

“I remember that--that rally was the final breaking point that pushed the act to pass.”

You nod, frowning, “I saw Justine go down and I bolted, took a train to Chicago and I was there until Stark found me.”

“But she survived?”

“It was like seeing a ghost,” You chuckle without humor, “And it was like nothing ever happened between us. She welcomed me with open arms.” 

“Were you and her…?”

You shake your head, “She...I never…” You trail off and sigh, “And now…” You stop, unable to form a sentence that accurately portrayed your feelings.

“You feel like you owe her something,” Bucky replies with quiet understanding.

“I need to be the one that finishes this. And I need to give her a chance.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to get posted, life got in the way a bit. Rest assured this story is not abandoned, and the remaining chapters will be up as soon as possible. Thanks for sticking with me!

You knew the team was worried about you, but you couldn’t help your distance. You had never really confronted your past with Justine, and knowing that the end of your story was going to be one of betrayal felt like someone was driving splinters into your heart. Bucky, the only one who knew the whole story was understanding, and didn’t seem phased by your withdrawal--he would only sit near you in quiet companionship. 

Today he had left for target practice with Natasha, and you wandered down to the kitchens for a bite to eat. You heard voices as you approached, and you slowed your steps.

“Are you picking up anything from her?” Steve’s voice floats to you from the kitchen and you still completely.

“Not really,” Wanda sighs in response, “She’s blocking me out mostly, but what I can pick up is not quite sadness...but resignation maybe? Some guilt?” 

“We’re making our move today, I’m calling the team in a few minutes. But maybe (Y/n) shouldn’t be there.”

You move before even making a conscious decision, rounding the door frame and crossing your arms, “The hell I won’t.” At least they both have the decency to look guilty. “I’m part of this more than anyone else. I need to be there when it ends.” 

“Who is Justine?” Wanda asks slowly and you immediately slam a mental wall around your mind, forcing her out, your eyes narrowed. But the damage had been done.

“You know someone there,” Steve shakes his head, “(Y/n), why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because the outcome doesn’t change either way, and I didn’t want to be closed out of this,” You snap, “The leader of the group and I have history, but you’re not stopping me from coming, and more than that I want to deal with her alone.” 

“(Y/n)--” Steve starts, but you cut him off, “Cut the shit Rogers, you would, and have done the same thing for Bucky. I’m just asking for the same consideration.”

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on yours while Wanda shuffles uncomfortably, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., get the team in here.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Wanda quickly incapacitates the two COBRA guards standing just inside before sealing the door you had told her Justine would be behind. Rhodie’s intel that most of the group had been staging a political assassination in DC seemed to have been good, and besides you, Wanda, Bruce, and Bucky the rest of the team had headed down there to take care of that situation. You had a feeling with your abrupt disappearance Justine would have stayed behind to keep an eye on things, at least until word of your capture or death turned up. 

The mutants within the room begin to panic, and you call out in a clear voice, “There’s no reason to be afraid. We’re not the government, and we’re not here to hurt you. Just keep your hands where we can see them, and no one try anything.” You nod to the others, “Don’t hurt anyone, but don’t let anyone leave. Not yet.” 

Stomach twisting uncomfortably you head toward the door, and the red glow around it disappears as Wanda releases it. You expect Justine to burst out of it, but there’s no movement. Shooting Bucky a comforting glance you twist the handle and step inside, closing it behind you.

If looks could kill Justine’s glare from where she sat behind her desk would have sent you straight to hell. 

“So, the prodigal child returns,” Justine’s voice is low and cold, “At first I thought something had happened to you, you know, I worried for you. But everyone else was right, you just scurried back to your little rat hole huh? Job well done? I guess I always knew you would never have what it took to fight, never be able to do what needed to be done for the greater good.”

She’s on her feet, faster than you expect, and you barely are able to send flames spinning out of your palms to stop the ice soaring towards you. You grimace with the effort, teeth bared; as your fire hits her ice the ice melts, stifling your flames. The flames engulf your body, and across the room you can see the ice creeping up Justine’s cheeks giving her dark skin a frosty glow. No matter how hard you push your powers there was no give; you were at a complete impasse. Apparently she thought the same, because almost in sync you both stop your attacks and draw your guns. You swallow nervously as you each have the other in your crosshairs, waiting for some unknown signal to fire.

“You think we’re the monsters,” Justine spits, her eyes narrowed, “But look at you, fighting against your own people. Betraying the people who care about you.” 

“Justine, look around you, look what you’ve done--”

“Shut up! You’ve done enough talking I think, blabbing to your new friends. What will it take for you to understand how little our lives mean to these people? Even now they’re probably slaughtering the innocent mutants outside.”

“They wouldn’t do that, Justine--” The door bursts open behind you and you register Bucky saying your name, but all you can focus on is Justine’s gun shifting from you to the man beside you. It’s instinct; your finger pulls the trigger and you watch as the bullet lodges itself in her forehead just before she crumples. You hit the ground a few seconds later, your knees banging painfully onto the cement floor, your gun still clenched in your hand; in your heart Justine had died twice now and they were both your fault.

“Some people can’t be saved,” Bucky says gently, pulling you half into his lap, “No matter what you do.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Bucky’s arm slips around your waist, and you rest your head against his shoulder but your eyes don’t leave the grave in front of you. 

“She did some terrible things,” You tell him softly as a soft wind ruffles your black dress, “But she was just a victim of circumstance. In a better world, she would have been a better person.” 

“You don’t have to justify coming here to me doll,” Bucky responds lightly, “She was your friend.”

“What happened to the rest of the mutants?” 

“A lot of them scattered, but we’ve got the ones who didn’t in safe houses until Stark can figure out something more permanent.”

“I’ve got to do something,” You tell him, “This law… People need to know what it really means.”

“I know. Stark and Steve have some ideas. They were just waiting…”

“Yeah, sorry I just...needed time.” After Justine’s death you had hidden away in your room in the compound for almost a week. If it hadn’t been for Bucky leaving food outside the door you might not have eaten. 

“I know.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Some of you may recognize me from the news footage of a robbery that aired some time ago. For those who don’t, my name is (Y/n), and I’m the newest member of the Avengers. But I’m not here today as an Avenger, I’m here as an unregistered mutant and I want to talk to you all about the thousands of mutants living in the United States today and the Mutant Registration Act. Recently a group opposed to this act that went by the name of COBRA sprung up taking a militant approach to put an end to this law. Although their hearts were in the right place, they attempted to do so by the exact methods that those in power fear; using their abilities to usurp the government. To those mutants out there who are thinking of following in their footsteps, I urge you to reconsider; doing so will only prove that the public is correct in their fear of you.” You take a deep breath, “COBRA has been neutralized and is no longer a threat. But COBRA is not the only threat out there,” You glance over at Tony who gives you a firm nod, “The Mutant Registration Act requires all mutants to register themselves with the United States government and be fitted with a tracking microchip. Upon further investigation we have uncovered that the microchip is not just a tracker. The microchip also puts a kill switch into the bodies of every single registered mutant, and at anytime this could be activated, eliminating the majority of the mutant population.”

The reporters in the crowd in front of you go mad at that, and you’re suddenly blinded by flashing bulbs while questions are screamed at you. You clear your throat and raise your voice, “The Mutant Registration Act must be overturned immediately. Mutants are people, just like every single one of you out there today, and we must treat them with the same basic human rights and respect that you would treat anyone with. As for the mutants out there who have not registered, I urge you to stay in hiding until this unfair, and unjust law is overturned. Thank you.”

You turn your back on the crowd and head back into the facility, your hands shaking. 

“You did good kid,” Tony pats you on the shoulder, “I’ve got the rest.”


	12. Epilogue

“My name is Charles Xavier,” The man across from you says gently. A tall wild looking man stands behind him, one hand on the back of his wheelchair, while his eyes glance around the room in apparent distaste.

“And you are?”

“Logan,” The man says through a clenched jaw.

“Sorry, Tony didn’t give me any details regarding your visit,” You frown, “Who are you exactly?” 

“I run a school for the gifted, for people like us,” He gestures vaguely to the three of you.

“What, for mutants?”

“Exactly. We teach young mutants how to control their powers and protect them from harm. I wanted to speak with you about your announcement to the world--what you did, coming out in the open like that, well let’s just say you have some admirers amongst my students.” The older man smiles but you don’t return it.

“Okay. I guess I’m just a little confused here. I’m a little old to be going to school,” You deadpan, earning another amused smile from Xavier and a snort from his companion.

“And I have no doubt that you’re fully in control of your powers. What I came to offer was a place within our institution, you could further help our kind by assisting with the education of young mutants from all over the world. I imagine with your public image you would be a great asset in recruiting; you already have the mutants trust.” 

“Oh uh--” Your eyes widen in surprise. That wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. 

“Before you say anything, I think it’s important to note that what we have at my school is something very different than what I think you would expect. We’re a family there, all of us, and we would like you to join that family.” 

“I...already have a family,” You say slowly after a moment, shaking your head, “Thank you for the offer, really, but...I belong here.”

Xavier nods, like he had been expecting this, “Thank you for speaking with me, and if you change your mind I’ve given Mr. Stark our information. Logan, let’s not waste any more of our young friend’s time.” 

You watch as they start to leave, and just before you speak the older man stops rolling and turns slightly towards you.

“Maybe I could help out,” You say carefully, “Sometimes. Like a part-time gig.”

“I think that could be arranged,” The man says slowly, a small smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

“(Y/n), you might want to turn on channel five,” Steve’s voice calls over the intercom, and you look up from your book to Bucky’s confused face. You roll over on the bed, reaching over him to grab the remote. 

“You think something happened?” Bucky asks as you press the on button. The president’s face fills the screen and your eyes widen as you take in the text at the bottom of the screen: Mutant Registration Act Overturned.

“Bucky,” You breath, “Is that--what--how?” He laughs and pulls you to his chest.

“They didn’t have a choice, not after what you did,” Bucky tells you, “Public opinion radically shifted after your press conference.”

“I--I don’t know what to say right now,” You admit with a soft laugh, “It doesn’t seem real.” Bucky presses a kiss to your temple and you tilt your head up to catch his lips with yours.


End file.
